


Until Such a Time as the World Stops Spinning

by InkwellWarriors



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural, The Avengers (2012), Torchwood
Genre: Crossover, Fic Abandoned, Jack flirts with everything, SuperTorch, SuperVenger, SuperWhoVengerLock, SuperWhoVengerTorchLock, Superwho, Superwholock, TorchLock, VengerLock, VengerTorch, WhoTorch, WhoVenger, Wholock, permanently incomplete, sass off, superlock, wibbly wobbly time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkwellWarriors/pseuds/InkwellWarriors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unlikely alliance of evil including Lucifer, Loki, Moriarty, and the Master has caught the attention of the TARDIS and the Doctor must find the world's best heroes to defend the Earth in her most desperate time of need. Humanity is depending on it. Follow both sides of the impending war. This is a SuperWhoVengerTorchLock story folks, you have been warned</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stuff Goes Ding

**Author's Note:**

> We are actually a trio of young writers. We call ourselves VWORPatron, Cheekbones, and Hamburger Pie or for short VWORP, Cheeky, and Hammy. We hope you enjoy our collaboration!
> 
> (Don't forget to check us out on our tumblr page, inkwellwarriors(.)tumblr(.)com)

       The Doctor twirled around the TARDIS control panel, pulling levers, pressing buttons, spinning wheels, honking horns. Rose laughed at a face he made at her. The blue box spun through space and time, hurtling toward its next exciting adventure—

       Something went “ding!”

       The Doctor spun to a stop in front of one part of the console, pulling a monitor down to where he was. He frowned and turned to a different screen, typing on a keyboard. His sudden silence and frown concerned Rose, who came over to stand beside and behind him.

       “Doctor?” She asked, worried but a smile still on her face, “what is it?”

       He tapped a few keys and spun a dial, frowning at the screen. “I’m not sure, exactly. Stuff. Stuff is definitely going down, serious stuff.” He scrolls in and a small smile tilts his mouth, his brows still drawn in. “It’s centered on Earth-“

       “It’s always Earth, it seems,” Rose commented wryly.

       He smirked at her, “Yes, Earth tends to be at the center of drama quite a lot.”

       Rose rested her chin on his shoulder. “What year?”

       He sucked in a slow breath, looking at the data. “2017. This is bad, Rose.” His voice was dark and serious, the laughter in his eyes clouded by worry and unhappiness. “From what I can tell, someone is going to try to bring out the Apocalypse. Well, AN Apocalypse. Multiple someones, maybe. It’s hard to be certain, the signal isn’t very specific as to the who.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, gazing at the screen worriedly.

       Rose watched him watch the screen expectantly. A few minutes pass and her patience is gone. “Well,” she demands, hands moving to her hips, “what are we going to do about it?”

       He starts as if she had interrupted his thought stream and he turns to her, eyes still distant. “ Right, right.” He finally focuses on her and tucks a hand into his pocket out of habit, rocking on his heels as he spoke. “Well, for starters we’ll need to start countermeasures, oooh, a year in advance.”

       “Countermeasures? What sort of countermeasures?”

       The Doctor was redirecting the TARDIS, flipping switches and turning wheels. “I can’t do this alone, Rose. I’m going to need help.” He grinned at her from around the Time Rotor Column. “Thankfully, the Earth has some of the mightiest heroes defending her. Let’s go pay them a little visit, shaaall we?”

       He threw down the last lever and the TARDIS shuddered as she changed direction. Toward Earth, toward the year before the end, toward the next adventure.


	2. A Cage That Resonates

       Lucifer landed with a flourish of his wings, almost losing his footing as the earth rocked underneath him. He peered into the distance over the crags and rocky bluffs trying to spot the mouth of the cave he knew held his next recruit. The glittering towers of Asgard could be seen on the horizon and he knew that, somewhere, Heimdall was standing guard. He had precious little time before Heimdall’s all-seeing gaze turned on him; Lucifer’s power only stretched so far, after all.

       Another earthquake rippled through the valley, accompanied by a scream of pure agony. Lucifer’s head snapped toward the sound, smiling as he located his target. With a whirl, he disappeared and reappeared at the entrance of a dark cavern. Another scream ripped through the air and Lucifer braced himself as the next quake rumbled the ground. Picking his way down into the cavern, he began to hear choked sobs in between each shout. Just before he emerged into the body of the cave, the next scream tore through and this time Lucifer could make out a word.

       “PLEASE!”

       Lucifer rounded the corner and was faced with a grisly spectacle. A man was bound to a rock in the middle of the cave, his hands tied above his head and wrists cut and bleeding from strain. His clothing, which Lucifer guessed was once dazzling to behold, was torn and ragged, hanging in shreds around the man’s body. He was writhing and tugging against his bonds to no avail. The state of his body paled, though, in comparison to that of his face, if there was any left of it. What little skin remained was red and inflamed; the screams ripped from the bloody remnants of lips. Coiled around a stalactite, a gleaming black serpent hung low over the man’s face, dripping venom steadily on to the prisoner. The man’s body was desperately trying to heal itself, but the poison was too fast.  
Lucifer stopped walking, taking in the sight before him. Then, holding his head high, Lucifer approached the tortured man and wrenched the snake off its perch. With a tight-lipped smile, the Devil whispered, “The serpent thing? That’s mine.” He tightened his grip and the snake disintegrated into dust.

       With the drip of venom stopped, the man slumped forward, drawing in hitched breaths. Lucifer leaned forward and severed the ties around the man’s body and then cut the bonds around his wrists, catching the prisoner as he toppled forward. Settling back against the rock, Lucifer cradled the man in his arms, watching in fascination as new skin slowly began to form. The man attempted to raise his arm but it was shaking too violently. Lucifer gently took the hand in his own and lifted it towards the man’s face. He could feel the magic emanating, some of it briefly channeling through his body before reaching its destination. The man’s face began to take definition, the nose, the lips, the skin, healing rapidly until finally a pair of bright green eyes opened to look at their rescuer.

       “Hello, Loki,” The Devil said, watching as the god lying limply in his grasp struggled to see past the pain that still lingered, blurring his vision.

       “Wh-who…?” he rasped out before he stopped to squeeze his eyes shut as a wave of anguish wracked his body.

       “My name is Lucifer. I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time.”

       Loki’s eyes pried open. “S-Satan?”

       Lucifer chuckled softly. “That’s one of my names.”

       “What do you want with me?”

       “I see a lot of things, Loki. I saw the Chitauri; I saw New York,” Lucifer began and saw Loki wince at the mention of his disaster. “I admire your work and I can appreciate where you’re coming from. I see the anger and betrayal in your heart and feel it resonating in me. We’re a lot alike, you and I.” He could see the question forming and continued before Loki had the chance to voice it. “I loved my father, above all else. I loved him too much, and for that, he betrayed me—punished me. He cast me out of my home and imprisoned me in a place of unspeakable torture.” He glanced around him then returned his gaze to Loki. His hair was damp from sweat so Lucifer swept it away from his face, smoothing it down. Loki relaxed at the comforting gesture, closing his eyes and letting the peaceful sensation envelop him as the pain started to seep away.

       “I had brothers, too. I trusted them and when I needed them, they let me down. I thought my father loved all of us, but in the end I was second best.” He paused as a tear leaked onto Loki’s cheek. “I’ve been in a cage much too long to let someone so much like me rot away in one just like it. I think it’s time my family took responsibility for what they’ve done to me. Every moment I was locked away, I thought of nothing but revenge. The time for judgment is upon us now. Do you know what my name means, Loki? It means light-bringer. I can help you. I can bring you justice and give you peace but I need your help as well.”

       Loki extricated himself from the Devil’s embrace and shuddered slightly as he stood on his own. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his limbs, testing out his newly reformed muscles and skin. A dim shaft of light shone in from the outside of the cave and Loki stared at it like it held all the promises of freedom and retribution Lucifer had just offered him.

       “I’ll be needing my helmet back.”

       And Satan smiled.


	3. Some Assembly Required

       Tony Stark had just spent the last week in his lab. At least, it felt like it. He hadn’t slept in three days at best, running on coffee and whatever mystical energy that powers geniuses to work past the point a normal man would fall comatose. He stumbled out of the elevator to the communal kitchen in the top floor of the Avengers Tower. He didn’t notice anything but the coffee pot in his quest for more energy.

       He didn’t see the large blue box sitting in the middle of the living room that was to the left of the kitchen.

       But Bruce did. After all, even after a night in the lab with Tony, Bruce was incredibly observant. And it was big. And blue.

       Dr. Banner skirted around the new addition to the living room with wide, baffled eyes.

       “Um…Tony?” Tony grunted into his coffee mug, already swallowing down his third cup . “Did…Why is there a Police Call Box in front of the couch?”

       “A wha?” Tony was obviously not coherent yet.

       “There is an old British style Police Call Box in the middle of the living room. Did you put it there?” Bruce tapped the box with his pencil, half expecting it to explode.

       “Are you sure you aren’t seeing things, buddy? I started hallucinating, oh, about 4 hours ago. Very distracting,” the super genius said. He came into the living room and blinked, taken slightly aback. “Unless our minds have somehow telepathically connected from spending so much time together surrounded by probably more than harmless material and we’re seeing the same hallucination, it’s actually there.” A bit more intrusive than Bruce, Tony twirled and stood in front of the blue box. Handing Bruce his coffee mug, he knocked a ‘rackety rap tap tappa tap’ on the door. Tony smiled at Bruce’s stern, bewildered look and shrugged. “Gotta find out if anybody’s home.”

       Opening his mouth to comment, Bruce was cut off as the door to the Police Call Box unlocked with a snk. Bruce pulled Tony back by his shirt, neither letting their eyes leave the blue door. The panel swung open and a pretty, blonde, young woman popped out smiling.

       “Hallo all, I’m the Doctor.” She stated in a British accent, a wide grin showing off her pearly whites.

       “A doctor, huh?” the flamboyant billionaire said, sliding on a charming smile. “My buddy here is a doctor, too, but maybe you can help me, miss. I seem to be hot, hot for you.” Tony stepped closer to the blonde, quirking his eyebrows. In response she raised a single eyebrow herself, giggling. Behind Tony, Bruce rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. There was a scuffle from within the box and a shout and Bruce walked behind Tony to see what was happening, bewildered by it all. A thin man with seemingly gravity defying hair and a dark brown pinstripe suit came tumbling out with a strange metal instrument in his hand, which he pointed at the blonde woman.

       “Don’t do that again,” he scolded, a hint of a smile softening the bite. He turned to the other men in the room, “She is not the Doctor.” Pointing to the woman then to himself, “She’s Rose Tyler. I’m the Doctor. Rose. Doctor.” Switching his pointing, he turned his finger to Tony and Bruce. “You’re Iron Man and the Hulk.” They both nodded slightly. The Doctor gave them a lopsided, gleeful smile. “Excellent.”

       Bruce was wary of that tone and the man from the box. “Why is that excellent?”

       “Because!” the man exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “You’re exactly who I need to talk to! Well,” he looked around, “two of them anyway. But you especially because you,” he gestured to Tony, “own this tower.”

       Tony shrugged, “My company does, at least. It has – or, used to have – my name on it. So?”

       “I need your permission to house some other heroes here while we deal with the end of the world,” the Doctor said casually, bouncing on his heels.

       “Wait wait wait,” Bruce held up his hands, “I think you need to start from the beginning.” He turned his head to look at Tony, “And I think we need to call the others in on this.”

       “Yes, let’s make it a party!” the Doctor cheerily proclaimed, sauntering over to where Rose was sitting on the closest couch and flopping onto it beside her. “Ooh, this is comfy!”

       Tony raised an eyebrow. “JARVIS, inform the others. Business meeting, 20 minutes, living room. Get Mr. Angry in on it too, he’ll want to be in the loop.”

       “As you wish, sir,” the voice of the Tower’s AI replied. Tony was expecting them to look startled, but the Doctor just grinned as Rose giggled at the British accent.

       “Your tower has a British AI? Very classy, Mr. Stark.” She grinned, leaning her head back to look at him over the back of the couch.

       Tony leaned on the back of the couch near her head, smirking. “Please, call me Tony. MR. Stark makes me sound like my father. Can I get either of you a drink?”

       “Water would be lovely,” the Doctor replied, looking around.

       “I wouldn’t mind a glass of wine, Tony.” She made sure to stress the name change and he grinned, winking as he turned to get their drinks.

       “Coming right up!” He strolled over to the bar. As he was pouring the wine, he heard the Doctor quietly comment about how he hadn’t been in this New York in a long time. There’s only one New York, Tony thought, unless…time traveler? It’s not impossible…just highly improbable. ”So how exactly did you get in my tower? JARVIS didn’t inform me of a security breach, which means you either corrupted his codes, hacked in, or aren’t a threat.”

       The Doctor held up his hands and said, “Oh, we’re not a threat. Quite the opposite, in fact.” At the same time that JARVIS commented, “I do not sense any ill-intent with them, Sir.”

       Tony handed them their drinks, smirking at Rose as he gave her the wine glass. “That still does not explain how you got in-” Tony fought the urge to roll his eyes as he heard the very soft sound of a bowstring being drawn back. “A bit early to the party, Clint.”

       Rose looked confused, until a voice spoke from near the ceiling that was not JARVIS’s. “Tony. Who are they?”

       Tony gestured to each. “The Doctor, Rose Tyler.” He gestured to a nook in the ceiling.“One of the resident Master Assassins, Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye. They’re not a threat, Legolas.”

       “How sure are you, Stark?”

       “Let me put it this way: JARVIS let them in. Though I still can’t figure out exactly how they got in, but we’re making progress.” Tony finally heard the bow string relax and the soft tap of feet hitting the ground. Clint came out of the hallway with his bow still open and an arrow notched, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Rose raised an eyebrow at his weapon over her wine glass as the Doctor gave a two-fingered salute of greeting accompanied by a smile.

       Clint kept his arrow locked on the visitors as others began to file into the room, all of them surprised by the blue police box in the center and the two newcomers. Pepper was especially concerned and she yanked Tony from the back of the couch and dragged him over to a corner to have a whispered argument. Thor loudly welcomed the new visitors, sitting beside the Doctor.

       “I am Thor Odinson, God of Thunder!” he proclaimed proudly, his booming voice making the Doctor flinch ever so slightly.

       “I am the Doctor, pleasure to meet you!” The Doctor proclaimed, equally as loud, and he shook the god’s hand vigorously. Then, softer, “You’re not from Earth.”

       “Seriously?” Rose asked incredulously, leaning around the Doctor to get a better look at Thor. “He’s an alien??”

       Thor nodded once, smiling broadly. “It is true, I hail from Asgard.”

       “Asgard, eh?” the Doctor mused. “Haven’t been there yet.”

       “Do you think we could go?” Rose asked excitedly.

       Thor was about to question them when a dark man cloaked in black leather came in.

       “Ah, Director Fury!” Tony beamed, eager to get away from Pepper’s reprimands. Director Fury nodded in a quick acknowledgement and was followed in by Steve, Agent Coulson, and Natasha, who went to stand by Clint. They had a short conversation in Russian and the Doctor pretended not to be able to understand them.

       Fury paused, his hands resting behind his back, and gave the phone box a critical look with his one good eye, then turned his gaze on the Doctor and companion. “Who the hell are you?”

       The Doctor stood smoothly and fixed the lapels of his suit. “I am the Doctor. This is my companion,” he swept his arms to gesture at her, “Rose. Now that you’re all here, I can ask you what I came here for-”

       “First I think you need to sit your ass down and explain EXACTLY who you are,” Fury commanded.

       “And how you entered the Tower without using any of the doors,” Tony chipped in. He held up a tablet when all but Fury looked at him. “I just checked the security cameras. That…box just appeared in my living room.”

       “That box,” the Doctor said, going to stand by it protectively, “as you put it, is my TARDIS. It’s my…spaceship, though it doesn’t just travel through space, it travels through time as well. That’s how it parked in your living room.”

       Steve furrowed his brow, trying to wrap his mind around this. “So… you’re, what, a Martian?”

       The Doctor rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Why do Earthlings automatically think I’m Martian? No, I’m not. I’m from a planet far, far, far away and long gone called Gallifrey. I’m a Time Lord. The last one, actually.” He looked a bit sad at the end, and Rose reached out to take his hand in hers. He smiled down at her, though it wasn’t a fully happy smile.

       “You’ll have to forgive Stars ’N Stripes here for the Martian remark, he’s still getting acclimated to the new century,” Tony said, patting Steve’s shoulder.

       “Ah, yes of course. I forgot about that detail.”

       “Acclimated?” Rose echoed.

       “I was frozen for 70 years in ice, miss,” Steve answered. Rose gave a silent ‘oh’ in response, her brow furrowing in thought.

       Bruce came over to lean on the back of the couch, fascinated by the blue box. “How does that work, then? Time and space travel? Does TARDIS stand for anything?”

       The Doctor flapped his hand in a dismissive gesture. “T.A.R.D.I.S. It’s stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space. It’s a lot of wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff beyond human comprehension.”

       Tony walked over to stand by Bruce, appraising the ship. He was messing with code and information on a tablet, tapping buttons and scrolling. There was a shrill beep from inside the TARDIS and the Doctor excused himself, going inside. The door shut before anyone got a good look inside. He was only in there for a few moments, then he came back out, frowning at Tony as he shut the door behind him.

       “You’re trying to hack into my TARDIS,” he accused, though there was amusement in his tone. Tony shrugged, not at all concerned that he had been caught in the act.

       “I am inherently curious. And I like shiny new science.”

       “She may be new to you, but she’s actually quite old.” The Doctor chuckled. “We both are.”

       “She.”

       “Yes, she.”

       “You say that like the TARDIS is alive.”

       “That’s because she is.”

       Tony narrowed his eyes slightly at the box, calculations and equations almost visible in his eyes. “Not an AI then, just an I. Some sort of advanced bioelectric system, then? Not surprised, alien technology and all. How does she travel through time?”

       “Didn’t you say the TARDIS was tied into a Time Vortex or something?” Rose piped in.

       “Time Vortex, hmm?” Tony rubbed his hands together after setting the tablet on the back of the couch, delighted at the new challenge. He rattled off some complicated theories, about the substance of what time was and how it moved, the physics of dimensional travel as described by Jane’s Einstein-Rosen bridge theory, and a whole slew of other extraordinarily complex ideas. Bruce argued some points back, adding in his knowledge. Those in the room who weren’t geniuses or ancient aliens only caught the occasional word like “waves” or “particles” or “the.” The Doctor, however, looked absolutely ecstatic and knelt on the couch cushions with his hands on the back, facing those behind the couch, as he explained to them the complicated physics and working of his TARDIS. Bruce and Tony only looked mildly overwhelmed, nodding and asking the occasional question as they attempted to understand the enormously advanced science.

       This went on for a good 15 minutes, and would have likely gone on longer had Steve not pointedly cleared his throat and Rose said, “Doctor” in an admonishing tone, even though she was glad he had found people to talk about his sciences with. The three looked sheepish – well, Tony just raised an eyebrow at his interrupted science time – and the Doctor turned around to face the room at large again. Bruce seemed a lot more comfortable now, leaning on the couch near the Doctor’s head and gazing at the blue box while he digested the new information.

       “You mentioned there was a reason you were here,” Steve brought up when it seemed no one else was going to speak, “What is it?”

       “Ah, yes.” The Doctor leaned forward, clasping his hands between his spread knees, forearms resting on his thighs. The gleeful smile faded into something far more serious. “My TARDIS picked up on some…well, I’m not exactly sure what, some sort of temporal signal. What I do know is that someone, possibly a small group or organization, intends to bring about an Apocalypse here. I plan to stop it, but I need help.” He stood and turned so he could look each person in the eyes. “The Earth needs her greatest defenders. I can’t do it alone this time; the Avengers are an obvious choice, but they are not the only ones we need.”

       Tony gave him an incredulous look. “Seriously? Who else is there?!”

       “Oh, the Earth has many defenders,” the Doctor remarked, leaning back against the couch, “but we only need a few more to complete the team-”

       “Hold on,” Fury barked, aggravated. “Who the hell do you think you are, barging in here and ordering around my team?!” He ignored Steve’s look. “You have no credentials, no experience-”

       “Oh, on the contrary,” the Doctor interrupted, both smug and annoyed. “Just do a simple internet search for ‘Doctor Who.’ I have saved this world from more threats than you can imagine, and many other worlds besides. Moreover, ‘your’ team has free will. It is their choice whether or not to help me, not yours.”

       Fury and the Doctor glared at each other. Steve stepped forward to break the tension. “Will… will we be meeting these other heroes?”

       The Doctor turned his gaze to him with a small smile. “Of course, Captain. How else could you work together?”

       “Where will we be working together?” Natasha spoke up for the first time, her eyes trained on the Doctor.

       The Doctor shrugged. “Wherever the trouble pops up, I suppose. The readings showed a large area, almost the entire globe.”

       “But what about when we’re not all fighting?” Steve questioned. “Where will those others stay? Surely it would be best to keep us all together, so we may be better acquainted with each other.” He turned his blue eyes to Tony. “Tony, surely we could house these other heroes here, between missions?”

       The Doctor’s half-hearted and fake protests and Fury’s sputterings were ignored by the grinning billionaire. “Sure thing, Spangles. I’m rather interested to see who else is worthy enough to defend the Earth against the end of the world.”

       Steve nodded once, firm, his expression set. He fell into the Captain America persona, standing up straighter, his voice commanding as he declared, “Then it is settled. Avengers Tower will be the base of operations for those fighting the end of the world.” Steve thrust his hand out to the Doctor while Fury and Agent Coulson had a heated whispered discussion. “The Avengers will fight by your side, sir.”

       The Doctor was amused as he shook Steve’s hand. “Glad you’re on board.”

       “How many rooms does JARVIS need to prepare?” Tony asked, already moving things around on a screen.

       “Eight,” the Doctor replied. “Six other heroes, and one each for myself and my companion here. I doubt we’ll use them much, but it’ll be nice to know they’re here if we need them.”

       Tony nodded and relayed the information to his AI. The other Avengers came up to the Doctor to introduce themselves. Fury walked out after a brief warning to the Doctor about lying to S.H.I.E.L.D., his coat flaring behind him.

       Tony’s redheaded CEO/girlfriend, Pepper, was very sweet and the Doctor immediately liked her. “How long will you be staying with us, Mr. Doctor?”

       The Doctor laughed, “It’s just Doctor, and actually I should head out. Other people to ask and all. I should be back with them soon.”

       Thor seemed perplexed. “You will not dine with us? Come, we must celebrate our new friendships and the ones to come!”

       “And the end of the world, don’t forget that.” Clint’s dry remark came from the kitchen, where the clatter of plates and cutlery could also be heard.

       Bruce smiled shyly at Rose and the Doctor. “We eat dinner as a team every day. Helps build moral and keeps us close, I guess. You are welcome to join us.”

       Rose smiled and tugged on the Doctor’s sleeve. “We’d love to join you.”


	4. Bury Me In Westwood

       The cemetery was quiet. The wind was still so that not even the rustle of the grass or the whisper of the leaves broke the eerie silence. All the people from the nearby village had gone to bed for the night, leaving the moon to cast the only light over the graveyard. And even her glow was muted by the dreary fog draped across the skyline.

       A flurry of wings whirled through the air, invading the quiet of the cemetery for a brief moment. A man had appeared at the gate, standing rigidly as he peered out over the tombstones. His face was mottled with scars and lacerations as if his body was eating away at itself from the inside out. With a flick of his wrist, he flung the gate open and strode into the graveyard, his footsteps making no noise on the dewy ground. He paused in front of one and knelt down to stroke the cold marble and trace the grooves where the name of the deceased had been etched in.

       “Richard Brook,” the man crooned, cocking his head to one side and tutting to himself. “Now that’s not right, is it?” He stood up and took a few steps back. Raising a hand over the ground, he muttered a stream of Latin and a small burst of energy pulsated from his outstretched arm. The earth over the grave shuddered and split, leaving a chasm six foot deep, allowing the man to catch a glimpse of an ornate, mahogany casket.

       ”Hellooo?” the Devil called. “Anyone alive down there?” A dull thump came from the inside of the casket and the hint of a smile edged its way onto Lucifer’s face. The clamor within the coffin increased, the thuds getting progressively louder and more frustrated, followed by a steady stream of cursing. Finally, the lid burst open and and a man flopped out, gasping for air.

       Lucifer looked on, watching the man catch his breath and take in his surroundings before settling his gaze on his savior. The two stared at each other for a moment, waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, the man stood up in his grave and brushed himself off. “Well aren’t you going to help me out?” he said, a tone of over-exaggerated distress and a look to match.

       Lucifer’s eyebrow quirked up despite himself and he hesitated before rolling his eyes and leaning down to haul Jim Moriarty out of his grave. Back on level ground, Moriarty tugged on the hem of his suit jacket and attempted to smooth out the wrinkles. “They buried me in Westwood, how considerate.” The corners of his mouth turned down in distaste as he took in the Devil’s jeans, t-shirt, and long sleeves. Lucifer caught him staring and glanced down at his shoddy wardrobe and shrugged. “It’s just a temporary vessel,” he offered in explanation.

       ”Doesn’t mean you can’t be temporarily stylish. What sort of impression do you give by wearing that?”

       ”I think I have a big enough reputation as it is.” There was silence between them for a moment as they each tried to stare down the other. Moriarty began to pace around the cemetery, lazily circling the Devil.

       ”So what’d you pull me back up for? It’s a shame, I really felt like I was starting to fit in down there.” His eyes lit up as he spoke and Lucifer could almost see the hellfire burning behind his irises.

       “I’m planning a little surprise party and I hear you like to play games.”

       Moriarty’s smile spread wide, his white teeth shining in the darkness and the hungry glint in his eyes was unmistakable now. He stopped pacing and fiddled with low hanging branch. “So what is this, then?” he said, gesturing between the two of them. “Some sort of Faustian pact?”

       Lucifer adjusted his stance and crossed his arms. “Not exactly. You could say I resurrected you out of the goodness of my own heart, which means you owe me. There’s no bargaining here on your half. I do something for you and you repay me.”

       Moriarty wrinkled his nose. “Do I still have to kiss you?” Lucifer blinked, the sneer in Moriarty’s voice was undeniable.

       “Don’t flatter yourself.”

       Moriarty’s smile didn’t falter; he resumed his meandering around Lucifer, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked. “So what favor do you expect me to return then?”

       Lucifer turned his head slightly, following Moriarty with his eyes. “That’s for me to know and me to tell you as I see fit. But you could say it involves a certain consulting detective.”

       Moriarty’s steps stuttered ever so slightly at the reference before he stopped walking and looked Lucifer directly in the eyes.

       “Well, then. I suppose the game is on.”


	5. An Improbable Truth...

       John yawned as he came down the stairs, rubbing his eyes as he passed through the living room into the kitchen. Sherlock was already there, showing no signs of having been elsewhere all night. He finished writing down some notes, then dumped whatever he was working on in the trash, immediately looking irritable.

       “Finished with that one, are you?” the sweater-clad doctor asked mildly, already knowing the answer. John didn’t need to glance up from making tea to see the annoyed expression on Sherlock’s face. He could practically hear the eye roll and the unspoken “Obviously.”

       John handed Sherlock his tea when it was ready, popping bread in the toaster and getting out two plates.

       There was a certain whining tone bordering the edge of Sherlock’s voice as he asked John, “When will my next case be?”

       “I don’t know; I can’t control the clients, Sherlock.” John was calm as he answered, holding in a sigh. This question had started day two without a fresh case; it was now day eight and Sherlock was near intolerable. Luckily, Sherlock had distracted himself with some experiments for a few days, but he had just finished the last of them and would be utterly bored again in–John checked his watch–20 minutes.

       The toast popped up. John slathered each with a thick coating of jam and slid one plate to Sherlock. There was an unrelenting gleam in his eyes, face set in his no-nonsense expression. “Eat. You’re not on a case.”

       Sherlock glowered at the toast and sulkily took a bite. John watched him until all of it was gone, then nodded to himself, satisfied for now, and turned to eat his own toast.

       Their morning proceeded as normal: John read the paper in his armchair and Sherlock paced the living room before flopping onto the couch groaning about how incredibly bored he was.

       Sherlock brooded on the couch, his back to the room, grumbling. He held out his hand toward John. “Give me your gun.”

       “No.” John didn’t even look up from his paper.

       “John.”

       “You will not shoot any more holes in the wall, Sherlock. No.”

       Sherlock muttered scathing insults under his breath at John, but the doctor ignored them with a skill born from years living with the consulting detective.

       Sherlock let out an aggravated huff of air and turned over onto his back, glaring up at the ceiling as if it would rain a case down on him if he only glowered hard enough.

       He was blessedly silent for a few minutes, and then: “John. I need them.”

       John lowered the paper with a loud rustle so he could glare at Sherlock’s prostrate form. “NO, Sherlock! You’re doing so well! A new case will come soon, have you—”

       An exasperated scoff plus a thud as Sherlock rolled off the couch cut John off. “Of COURSE I’ve already checked the blogs, John! AND I’ve texted Lestrade! Nothing, nothing! – I NEED THEM!! Where have you hidden them?!”

       John rolled his eyes as Sherlock stormed about, tossing papers and books and who-knows-what-else around in his hunt. “No, Sherlock. You agreed to quit. You’ve been clean for months; I’m NOT letting you break that streak. Play your violin or something.” He returned to his reading.

       He sighed; really, he had been expecting such behavior from the genius, since he had reacted similarly the last time John had made him quit his addiction cold-turkey. Back then, it had taken Henry Knight and his case, The Hounds of Baskerville, to bring Sherlock out of his mood. John hoped the next case would come soon, it had already been over a week and he was beginning to worry about Sherlock’s mental state.

       John didn’t have work today, so he decided to catch up on the large pile of dishes that needed washing in the sink after he finished the interesting bits of the paper. Meanwhile, Sherlock poured his frustrations into his violin playing. The ex-army man winced at the horrendous screeches coming from the living room.

       “Playing like a dying cat will not bring clients to our flat faster, Sherlock.” John’s shoulders relaxed a bit as the noises stopped. A few moments later, softer and more beautiful tones came floating on the air. John recognized it as a piece of Vivaldi’s La Stravaganza–his knowledge of classical music had dramatically increased since he first moved in to 221B–which was one of the pieces Sherlock played through when he was exceptionally bored but still wanted to be in John’s good graces.

       A sudden, odd sound interrupted the cascading notes and the flat fell to silence around it. John could only describe it as… vworp vworp vworp. Curious, John turned off the tap and walked into the living room. Sherlock was near the window and looked equally startled. A great wind was blowing papers around, smaller trinkets flying around the room. There seemed to be a blue light flashing near the ceiling, getting stronger. Under it, a blue boxy form was starting to take shape, beginning translucent and faint but getting stronger and more solid with each pulse of light and vworp sound. It only took five vworps for there to be a very real and very there 1950’s style blue police call box sitting in the living room of 221B. Sherlock put down his violin and joined John on the door side of the sudden new centrepiece of their living room. John glared at him, freaked out but trying not to let it show.

       “Sherlock,” there was a panicked warning tone in his voice, “did you mix chemicals in the mugs again?”

       “You’re not hallucinating, John.”

       “Like hell I’m not! There, there… there must be some gas that’s being pumped into the flat or—” His voice turned angry and a bit scared as Sherlock gave him a blank, yet mildly amused look. “Don’t give me that look, Sherlock! Police call boxes just…don’t…….bloody hell.”

       The door was opening. John steeled himself for whatever was going to come through, his fingers twitching; he didn’t have his gun on him, an early morning decision he was regretting.

       What stepped out of the Police Box was nothing at all what John was expecting. It was a man, a human looking man, with tousled yet upwardly styled brown hair and a lot of little freckles. A long brown trench coat brushed his ankles, worn over a crisp blue suit jacket and matching pants. He was wearing a pale blue button up shirt with a red tie that had subtle swirls on it under the suit jacket. There were red Chucks on his feet and a huge smile on his face.

       “Allo!”

       John was stock still and silent after the strange man’s cheery exclamation. Sherlock just calmly stepped forward, the slightest smile on his face as he shook the stranger’s hand.

       “Ah, the Doctor. Finally, something INTERESTING!”

       John sputtered, breaking his silence. “E-exCUSE ME?! You know him?!”

       Sherlock gave John a smirk, one side of his mouth quirked up almost smugly. “Yes, I made the Doctor’s acquaintance while I was…abroad. The Doctor saved my life.”

       The…Doctor, as Sherlock called him, was beaming and leaned his elbow on Sherlock’s shoulder after letting go of his hand. “Sherlock here saved mine and Rose’s lives a few times too, it was great fun.” Sherlock gave the Doctor a tight lipped smile that John knew meant he was feeling uncomfortable and pushed the elbow off his shoulder, stepping closer to John again.

       John was struggling to make sense of all this. “So… he’s a doctor—”

        “No, THE Doctor; please, John, for once, do keep up.”

       “But… Doctor who? What’s your name? …what?” John looked between the two taller men, who were sharing a little secretive smirk. John felt cross and left out. He folded his arms across his chest, scowling at the man who was now chatting with Sherlock as if he had known him for some time. But Sherlock said he had only met him once, yet this man, this Doctor, seemed to know so much about the consulting detective. It didn’t make sense.

       Sherlock was currently talking; John must have missed some of the conversation while he was lost in thought. “…you look different from when I last saw you; something big must have happened to force you to regenerate.”

       It was the Doctor’s turn to look uncomfortable. He scratched the stubble on his chin. “Yeah…” He tilted his head this way and that with a myriad of shifting emotions passing over his face, not really looking at Sherlock, his voice dropping to a softer level. “Time Vortex.”

       Sherlock nodded once, like he understood or was acknowledging pain. “Ah.”

       John finally exploded, confused and feeling alienated from the conversation. “WHAT?! Sherlock, what the HELL is going on? Regeneration? Time Vortex? Who are you? Why are you here?!”

       The Doctor brightened again and hit his forehead with his palm. “Oh, right!” His expression and tone turned more serious and he looked between the consulting detective and doctor. “The world is going to end, and I need your help to stop it. Both of you. You need to come with me. Ah—” he held up a hand, as both were about to ask questions. “No, please, let me explain. I am gathering as many of the Earth’s greatest defenders and protectors. There is…great evil afoot, but I dare say no more until I have gathered those I need. The Americans have already agreed. Well,” he looked both cheeky and thoughtful, and rocked on his heels, paused and started to sway side to side, “SOME of the Americans – no, MOST of the Americans have agreed. Rose is watching the scanners for the Winchester brothers.” He looked at them, almost smiling as though he already knew the answer. “Sherlock Holmes, John Watson… will you come?”

       Sherlock narrowed his eyes in thought. “Hmm… No.”

       The Doctor blinked and brought his head forward as if he didn’t hear him correctly. “Sorry… did you say no?”

       Sherlock looked remarkably disinterested. “That’s correct. I’m far too busy—“ he ignored John’s incredulous “What?!” “—and it doesn’t seem worth my time. But, I’ll send my best man for the job.” He patted John’s shoulder as he passed him to lean against the back of his armchair, watching them, a tiny smirk on his otherwise expressionless face.

       The Doctor looked very lost and confused, shocked even. “What? But…” He blinked a few times, trying to understand.

       John was almost pleading with Sherlock, but anger and annoyance colored his tone the most. “Sherlock, what are you talking about, you haven’t a case in eight days, you are NOT busy. Dammit, Sherlock, the world might end—”

       Sherlock’s icy blue eyes met John’s brown ones and Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “Better get packing, then, John.”

       The flatmates glared at each other, the muscle in John’s cheek twitching as he clenched his jaw repeatedly, his fingers curling into white-knuckled fists. Sherlock looked almost amused. John knew what he was doing, why he had phrased it that way, almost his exact words from the Baskerville case. And dammit, he didn’t care if he was giving in, the fate of the world depended on them and Sherlock was being petty again. John stomped over to the sheep’s skull on the wall and pulled a box of cigarettes out from behind it. He shoved them at Sherlock, who tossed them over his shoulder.

       “I don’t need THOSE,” he proclaimed gleefully, his mood violently shifting from disinterested to the excitement of a kid at Christmas, “The possible end of the world, aliens, superheroes – the game is most definitely ON, John!! Pack your bags, we’re going to America!” Sherlock strode toward his room, then stopped and turned. “I’ll be needing the couch. You should bring John’s chair as well. They help me think.” He turned back and continued to his room, the occasional muttering or curse coming from the room, as well as the sounds of Sherlock going through his closet and tossing things around.

       The Doctor ducked his head down to John’s level with a confused expression, still staring after where Sherlock disappeared to. “So…..he IS coming?”

       John gave an aggravated sigh, wondering how much they were going to owe Mycroft for plane tickets. “Yes, he’s a right git, but he’s coming.”

       “What was….THAT all about, then?”

       John waved him off a bit shrugging. “Oh, he got re-addicted to nicotine while he was…out of the country for a few years. He’s gotten clean since, but he still gets cravings when he’s bored.” John grumbled to himself as he paced the living room, “How are we going to get the couch to America? Shipping costs a fortune, not to mention who knows WHAT has been spilled on it that sniffer dogs would pick up on. Planes are bloody expensive too— Hey, hold on a second!” The doctor whirled and stared at the Doctor. “How exactly did you manage to get that Police Box in here?”

       The man in the brown trench coat jerked his thumb over his shoulder in a casual point. “That’s my TARDIS,” he corrected.

       A silent stare met this response. “…your what? How does that explain anything?”

       “Time and Relative Dimension In Space.” Sherlock’s cool voice behind him made John jump. A smirk quirked up the corner of Sherlock’s mouth,. “He’s an alien, John, and that’s his spaceship.”

       The Doctor piped in helpfully, “It travels through space. And time.”

       Sherlock set down the large suitcase he had packed by the door of the blue box and turned to John. “Hurry up and pack. I only need to grab our laptops and I will be ready.”

       John puts his hands on his hips, frowning. “What about the experiments in the kitchen?” Sherlock scoffs. “And someone needs to tell Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade that we’ll be gone for–” he turned to the Doctor. “How long will we be gone?”

       The Doctor pursed his lips off to the side of his mouth, scrunching up his face in the process as he looks into the distance. “Ooh, tch, hard to say, really.” He looked back at John almost apologetically but with the light of mirth in his eyes. “The end of the world doesn’t really keep to a schedule. It does tend to drag on, though. Could be months. Years, even. This is only the very beginning of what will likely be a long battle.”

       John let out an inarticulate aggravated noise. “That means I’ll have to quit my job. AGAIN. Sherlock, at least go clean out the fridge of body parts and put them in those biohazard bags Molly gave us. And DON’T you DARE bring them with us. I’m going to go pack.” John trudged up the stairs as the Doctor curiously followed Sherlock into the kitchen. The ex-soldier meticulously folded his jumpers and jeans and other clothes, compressing them to get as much as he could in his suitcase. He ended up taking most of his closet, many of the jumpers ones Sherlock had brought back for him from his…travels. Once all of his clothes were packed, as well as extra pairs of shoes, he packed up most of the things from the bathroom, including the things Sherlock didn’t bother packing–he either forgot about them, or he figured John would just pack for him, the clever git–into his old army duffle bag. He brought his luggage down and set them next to Sherlock’s bags. He went into the kitchen to check on Sherlock’s progress and to grab a few necessities. After all, who knows what kind of tea they sell in America and he’s not sure he could deal with aliens and superheroes without his daily cuppa. Once the kitchen was straightened away, they went back to the living room. John eyed the TARDIS critically.

       There was doubt and disbelief in John’s voice, “How is this going to fit in that little box?”

       Sherlock smirked, crouching to pick up one end of the couch. “Humour us, John.”

       John huffed and hefted his end up. The Doctor held the door open and Sherlock went in first. John didn’t notice anything until he was all the way inside–he dropped his end in shock, jaw dropping open. He openly gaped.

       “I-it..it..what?! WHAT?!! It’s bigger on the inside?!?” He ran back out, circled the box, and tried to peer in the windows but was too short. He rapped on the wood to feel the solidity of the panels, then slowly went back inside. A careful look around the inside, then he went back out to repeat the outside inspection, popping his head in a few times. John sat down heavily on the couch that was still where they had dropped it. His shaking hands covered his face. “What…I…bloody hell. Jesus.”

       Sherlock was unaffected. “Yes, well we still need to bring in your chair, as well as our bags.”

       “How are you not freaked out by this, Sherlock?!” John demanded, looking up from his hands to glare at his best friend. “It defies physics!!”

       “I’ve already seen it,” Sherlock replied, sighing as if explaining all this to John was incredibly tedious, “And it’s simply far more advanced science, it’s not like it’s magic, John. Honestly, what IS it like in your brain?”

       John bit back a scathing remark, instead helping Sherlock get his arm chair into the TARDIS as well. Sherlock and the Doctor loaded their luggage in while John went downstairs to tell Mrs. Hudson that an emergency case came up and no, he can’t tell her any details and he’s not sure how long they’ll be gone, but they’re needed in America. He promised her that rent would still be paid—he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d manage it, but surely owing Mycroft a bit more wouldn’t hurt too terribly, or else he could surely get a job in America—but she assured him that the flat would still be waiting for them when they returned. John thanked her repeatedly before going back upstairs and double checking for things they forgot to pack.

       Sherlock texted Lestrade and his brother at John’s insistence: GOING TO AMERICA. IMPORTANT CASE. POSSIBLE END OF THE WORLD. EMAIL ME ONLY THE REALLY INTERESTING CASES, NOTHING LESS THAN A 9. — SH

       John sat on the couch, which had been moved to the flat area around the central control console, his hands pressed together over his mouth. It was a habit he had picked up from Sherlock, for when he was really baffled. A pretty blonde girl with a thick London accent—which John for one was glad to hear, the Doctor…unnerved him so something familiar was welcome—sat down beside him. She introduced herself as Rose Tyler, the big smile on her face making John smile back.

       She looked over at the armchair, where Sherlock had perched. “Now I know why you were fighting so hard to get back to London, Sherlock, John is such a dear!” John flushed slightly and looked at Sherlock, who was not looking at them.

       “Sherlock? You….told them about me?”

       Sherlock glanced over. “Don’t be stupid, John, of course I did. They required an explanation of my actions.”

       John didn’t really have anything to say to that and Sherlock had already tuned him out, so John turned to Rose. “Where did you meet Sherlock?”

       Rose launched into an excited retelling of their adventure in South America. Sherlock now took the time to inspect the Doctor’s companion, as he had not seen her since their last encounter. It was obvious to Sherlock that the Doctor was even more attached to her than before. He was comfortable sitting very close to her and she did not protest the lack of space between them so she was fond of him too. Sentiment. She was practically dressed with her running shoes, blues jeans, and a pink babydoll tee underneath the green jacket she wore. Her voice, British—they had recently visited her home so the accent was stronger. She looked a bit older and more mature now, it was hard to tell exactly how long she had spent with the Doctor since the last time they met, and adventurous, one always has to be when they traveled with the Doctor. She was slightly above average in intelligence, not book smarts, street and common sense smarts. Witty and quick, Sherlock could tell she grounded the Doctor to a more human and sociable level. Sherlock narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment. All of that was the same as when they had first met, but there was something else… Based on how she moved her fingers in her lap, while she cared deeply for him she was still getting used to the differences between this regeneration and the last. There was also a touch of guilt in the turn of her sleeves, she had some major part in his regeneration. She looked haunted around the eyes, like she had seen the secrets of the universe; the Doctor had mentioned the TIme Vortex, so it was possible she saw into it.

       She turned to talk to the Doctor, who had gotten up and was messing with things all around the control console; honestly, it looked less like a control console and more like a shiny junk pile to John, but he kept that thought to himself.

       “Doctor, why don’t we have a sofa?” Rose asked, her fingers playing with the blanket John had thrown over the back of it.

       “We do have one—”

       “Not in the main part of the TARDIS, it’s all the way in the library!”

       “Well, we’ve got the bench,” was the Doctor’s slightly defensive reply, pointing with his thumb at the three-person seat on the other side of the platform.

       Rose rolled her eyes, grinning at John. “Yeah, but sofas are comfy! That thing is barely tolerable for short journeys!”

       “Alright, next time we have to fight off an invasion in IKEA, I’ll make sure we take the time for you to pick out furniture,” the Time Lord retorted, grinning around the glowing column.

       “I’m gonna hold you to that, Doctor,” Rose warned with a smirk.

       John had a feeling these two time travelers bantered like this all the time. He didn’t want to interrupt their easy chatter, but he had to ask: “Where are we going exactly?”

       The Doctor worked his way over to the side of the console they were on as he talked, “Normally, I’d say anywhere you want to go, but in this case we’re going to the Avenger’s Tower in New York City.”

       John blinks. “Avenger’s Tower? Oh, you mean that great big STARK tower that was damaged in the Chitauri attack a few years ago?”

       The Doctor turned with a big smile. “Yes, exactly!”

       “He said he was amassing a team of the Earth’s finest defenders,” Sherlock stated before John could even ask, “the Avengers are an obvious choice.”

       John took a few moments to think, the TARDIS shuddering gently around them as it traveled. When he spoke, his words were slow and minutely hesitant, as if afraid the Doctor would return them to England for what he was about to say. “Okay… Them I can understand, but… us? Sherlock Holmes and John Watson? Protectors of the Earth? How can we fight aliens?? Hell, Sherlock barely knows about the solar system, let alone anything beyond it!” Sherlock pouted in John’s chair.

       “Who said you would be fighting aliens?” the Doctor asked calmly.

       John flushed a light pink. “I, er, figured, since we were in a spaceship…” He was expecting Sherlock to make a scathing remark about not assuming things, but he stayed silent.

       “You might end up fighting aliens,” The Doctor said after some finer fiddling with doodads on the dashboard, “I honestly don’t know who exactly you’ll be fighting. I may be from, well I may have VISITED the future, but that doesn’t mean I know everything that will or could or might happen. As to why you were picked…you two are the best detective team of any time. Thousands of stories have been written about you. The Avengers may be able to fight, but I have always believed that knowledge is the best weapon of all. Do you understand?”

       John nodded while Sherlock preened at the praise. “I…yes, thank you, Doctor.”

       The rest of their trip didn’t take long, as a few moments later the TARDIS shuddered to a stop. They got out in a large room that looked to be some sort of storage area. The TARDIS had landed in a large square that was a similar color blue as the box and had “TARDIS LANDING ZONE - KEEP CLEAR” painted in black on a yellow border all around the edges.

       A voice spoke out from everywhere, making John jump and nearly pull his gun. Even Sherlock looked startled. “Welcome to Avengers Tower, Dr. Watson, Mr. Holmes. Welcome back, Doctor, Miss Tyler.”

       The Doctor smiled. “Thank you, JARVIS.” He saw John’s baffled expression. “JARVIS is the Tower’s AI unit. Tony built him, he basically runs the Tower all by himself.”

       Rose pushed a panel and part of the wall slid away to reveal a well-lit hallway leading to an elevator. They all got in and the Doctor pushed the button for the desired floor.


	6. ...But Not An Impossible One

       “Sir, the Doctor and Miss Tyler have arrived. Two guests as well: Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson, both of London, England,” JARVIS announced. Tony stopping working and flicked his welding visor up.

       “Put their files on screen, please, JARVIS.” Instantly, a screen lit up near him that had the files. “Consulting detective, huh…” He pulled off his gloves and turned off his tools. “Which Avengers are in the building?” The lights turned out as Tony left the lab.

       “Captain Rogers is in the training facility, Mr. Barton is in ductwork section 183E, and Dr. Banner is in his lab. Thor is currently in Asgard for armor repair, and Miss Romanoff is on a S.H.E.I.L.D. mission.” Tony rapped on the glass of Bruce’s lab while JARVIS relayed the information, gesturing “up” to the scientist when he looked away from his work. He spun his hand over his head in their hand-code for “TARDIS”. Bruce nodded and saved his work before leaving the lab, lights shutting off behind him. Tony handed him a tablet with the files of their new housemates.

       “Sherlock Holmes… I recognize that name from somewhere…” Bruce mused as they entered the elevator that was near the labs. It was smaller and plainer than the main elevator, but it was the only one that went into all of the subterranean floors; the main elevator went as low as basement one. This elevator was only accessible with the right keycode, so they didn’t have to worry about lost tourists getting too deep. The elevator ride did not take very long and soon they stepped out on the main communal floor.

       There were four people waiting for them in the living room. The Doctor was gesturing broadly, which meant he was telling them a story about one of his adventures. The newcomers looked over when they heard the door open.

       Sherlock’s eyes flickered over the men as he deduced. Incredibly wealthy, past alcoholic now occasional drinker, works long hours in a lab, confident, past trauma, abroad but for pleasure, parties but less often than used to, bad relationship with father, right-handed—

       However, it was John who spoke first, his eyes widening slightly. “Tony Stark, isn’t it?” Sherlock gave him a look that read how could you possibly know that? John gave him a shrug. “He’s in the papers a lot.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued deducing all he could from Stark while John shook hands with the billionaire.

       “That’s me,” Tony stark beamed his charming smile at them. “You must be Dr. John Watson, making Brooding Silence here Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”

       “More like Brooding Science,” muttered John as he lost the battle with his smile. Tony grinned as John swallowed a chuckle, avoiding Sherlock’s pointed side glance.

       Tony stuck out his hand to John. “Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Watson. Call me Tony.” John’s handshake was warm, firm, and curt. Much like Steve’s, mused Tony.

       “John, please.” He tilted his head to indicate Sherlock. “This is-”

       “Sherlock Holmes. I can introduce myself, John,” Sherlock cut in, lips quirked in a socially demanding smile, his hands folded stoically behind him, indicating no desire to shake hands.

       John gave Sherlock his patented ‘you’re-being-a-prat’ expression and spoke in an aggravated lower tone, “Sorry, Master of Deduction. I didn’t know if you wanted to, oh, I don’t know, make a show of this; like the last case.”

       “John, now’s not the time to be getting back at me for our last case.”

       “You walked around like a runway model showing off her new designer boa,” John scolded. “And you made me your butler!”

       “For the sake of the case!” Sherlock whispered urgently. John opened his mouth but noticed Tony’s amused look and shut it in a tight lipped smile.

       Rose giggled and whispered to the Doctor “I like them. Two people that manage to fit together despite their major personality differences. Are they married? I don’t see rings?” The Doctor raised an eyebrow at Rose’s inquiry. “What? They act like an old married couple!”

       “Does that mean we’re married too?” he countered, grinning boyishly. Rose blinked at the Doctor, and couldn’t find the right words for a comeback. He winked at her baffled expression.

       Bouncing on his heels, Tony grinned and said, “Well, lovebirds, are you ready to meet the rest of the team?” John’s embarrassed, open-mouthed expression was funny, Tony thought; John appeared to think better of whatever he had been about to say, as he shut his mouth with a huff, jaw set firm. Tony couldn’t help but smirk and Rose looked at the Doctor who shrugged in response. Neither of them had corrected Tony.

       “Ah, what about our stuff?” John asked, “It’s still in the TARDIS.”

       Tony waved him off, “I’ll have it transported it to your rooms before you settle in.”

       “We brought a couch—”

       “Do not concern yourself over it, Dr. Watson.” JARVIS’s smooth voice came from seemingly everywhere. John jumped, not used to the unseen commentator.

       “Oh! JARVIS, could you inform Amber Waves of Grain and Robin Hood our guests are here?”

       “They are already on their way, sir.”

       Seeing John’s lingering unease at the disembodied voice, Bruce smiled kindly. “It takes a while to get used to JARVIS.”

       “Oh, yes, while you’re here feel free to ask JARVIS for anything. He’s programmed to help everyone in the Tower. Well, not everyone, but the important people, of which you are now one.”

       “Fine, but how is a voice going to move our stuff?”

       Tony laughed. “Oh, don’t count JARVIS out of anything around here.”

       Sherlock turned his examining eyes to the other scientist once he had gleaned as much as he could, at this time, from Tony. The conversation continued around him, but he blocked it out, tired of the boring chatter. Tired and worn down, lab coat rumpled with a couple days’ worth of stubble on his face; spent nearly as much time in the lab as Tony did recently, Sherlock determined, but he does not work on the same type of experiments. Graphite stains on the ends of his fingers, likes to write down his notes by hand, but still uses mostly technology. Theoretical sciences, difficult to study without highly advanced machines, which are available here based on the callouses and nicks on his fingers from manual adjustments. Lines on the face, imprints of safety gear. Likely specializes in wave or particle science. Older than Tony, spent quite a number of years abroad throughout his adult life, going by the tanned state of his skin. Though it wasn’t for pleasure, as the tan lines are uneven and layered. Pinched look around the eyes, the knots on his shoes—a doctor then, medical as well as theoretical. Wrinkles on his pants, meditates at least once a day. Seems to be holding something in, as if it is just barely below the surface, waiting. But what?… This man was far more observant than the chatterbox Stark, for he noticed Sherlock’s gaze on him. The man gave a nervous, shy smile.

       “I forgot to introduce myself; I’m Bruce Banner.” He did not offer a handshake; reclusive and uncomfortable with touch, trust issues. Sherlock gave him a nod.

       “You are a man weary of the world,” the consulting detective said. Bruce tensed for a moment before nodding.

       “And you are the man who faked his death, I remember you now.”

       Rose leaned over to the Doctor, “He faked his death? Why?”

       The Doctor shook his head slightly, talking back in low tones, “I won’t spoil his story, but it has to do with why he was in Rio when we were.”

       “Aw, come on! What happened?”

       The Doctor suppressed a grin, “Nope.” Rose pouted, but she was smiling.

       “You have something hidden, like it’s ready to bubble over any minute now,” Sherlock countered. John intervened.

       “You’ll have to try to excuse Sherlock’s lack of social grace and his limited knowledge of pop culture.” John smiled and extended his hand. “John Watson.”

       Bruce smiled a little bit more and shook John’s hand. “That’s okay, I live with Tony Stark; he’s socially inept as well.” A cry of indignation came from the super genius. “He builds my resistance up.” He glances at Sherlock’s still scrutinizing look, “My alter ego is the Hulk.”

       “He still probably doesn’t know who that is.”

       Sherlock frowned but before he could say anything two men entered from the elevator. Tony glanced over and exclaimed, “Oh, no wonder it took you so long to get here; you got dressed up for our guests, Steve!” A tall, well-muscled, blonde man walked in side by side with a shorter but almost as buff short haired brunette. The taller gave Tony an exasperated look and subconsciously smoothed his neatly pressed short sleeved button up. Everything was precise, observed Sherlock. From his tucked in shirt, the sweep of his hair, and the shine on his shoes, everything was done with care and routine. Military. Easy, but there was still something…unusual about the man.

       “First impressions are everything, Tony, and I see you didn’t bother changing.”

       “What can I say? It’s the real me, Steve.” He tapped his chest with his hands before spreading his arms wide. “Insane grease junky. Though,” he gestured to Steve’s attire, “the real you is a charming, handsome soldier. And you’re very pretty too, Barton. Pretty as a…peacock, even.”

       “Shove it, tin can man.” Clint rolled his eyes.

       Steve turned, smiling and held out his hand out Sherlock. “Steve Rogers. It’s a pleasure to finally meet some of our new allies.”

       Sherlock didn’t move for a moment but before John could nudge him Sherlock took the Captain’s hand and shook it. “You’re not from this era. You served in the military, but not the current one. You could just be fond of the 40’s but no, your dress, hair and mannerism suggest that you are indeed from that time.”

       Steve looked surprised but then laughed. “I’m assuming you don’t know who I am. That’s a nice surprise.”

       “You just said you we’re Steve Rogers.”

       “Oh, Sherlock,” John sighed. “I swear I’m just a social translator. When we get back to Britain I’m asking my mum to send me some of my old comics. Steve Rogers is Captain America. World War II hero.” John clicked his heels together, stood military straight and saluted Captain America. “Honor to meet you sir.”

       Steve gave an American salute back before relaxing and shaking John’s hand. “I recognize that British salute. I didn’t know I had fans over there. What branch are you?”

       John smiled, “You’d be surprised how many there still are. I was a doctor in the Army. I’m a Former Captain in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.”

       Steve grinned. “It’s great to meet another Captain. We seem to be doing all the work, even now.” He turned to Sherlock, “How did you do that? Know where I’m from.”

       “I observed.”

       “I was frozen for 70 years. The Super Solider Serum I have in me put me in hibernation basically. You have sharp eyes. I’m glad to have you both on the team.”

       The man beside him snorted. “You say that like there aren’t already sharp eyes on the team—”

       “Archer, though you are highly skilled in any form of projectile weapon. Orphan, you had a brother, grew up in the circus hmm don’t see that every day. You don’t trust easily, and even those you do trust you still expect to one day turn on you. Above average intelligence, you have worked as an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D for over ten years. You prefer high places that are both hidden and easy to flee, obvious preference as a sniper. You are haunted by things you caused while not yourself and the death of someone close to you. You had cereal, milk, and coffee for breakfast, haven’t eaten lunch, and you have 10 weapons on your person that I can see. You spend at least seven hours a day in the air vents,” Sherlock said all this with barely a glance at him. Clint’s eyes widened fractionally. “Surprised? Oh yes, and you have a deep fear of hospitals and doctors, which is why you haven’t gotten that knee looked at. I’m sure John could diagnose it better than I, but based on how you’re standing and the lay of your shoelaces, looks like you sprained your medial collateral ligament. Possibly a small tear in the meniscus.” He gave Clint a bland smile. “I am no threat to your position on the team. I observe and deduce, but my aim is terrible.”

       There was a moment of stunned silence, broken by an awed, “Holy shit,” from Tony. Steve gave Clint a look.

       “When did you hurt your knee?” he all but demanded.

       “It’s nothing major, just need to ice it—”

       “When.”

       A sigh. “Yesterday. I sparred with Thor; I’m glad I don’t have a broken leg.”

       Steve rolled his eyes, but John looked concerned. “Would you like me to look at it?”

       Clint eyed him warily. “Are you a doctor?”

       “Yes.”

       “No thanks, I’m good.”

       “Clint,” Steve said warningly. Clint wrinkled his nose at him.

       “We don’t have to go to wherever their medical room is, I can just look at you on the couch,” John soothingly persuaded.

       Clint hesitated, but nodded stiffly and hopped over the back of the couch, rolling up his pants leg. The rest of the group followed curiously as John walked around the couch and knelt in front of him. The Avengers were interested to see how John worked, to see if they could trust his expertise and skills. Even Sherlock watched as he rarely saw John diagnose a living person. John’s hands moved steadily and gently, prodding and moving the joint, calmly asking Clint questions as he twisted and pushed. Clint was on edge, but the presence of his team both comforted and unnerved him. John reached his hand out and Sherlock was already there with a wide Ace bandage. The doctor wrapped Clint’s knee and gave him a smile as he rolled down the pants leg.

       “No tears in the meniscus, but a second-degree sprain of the medial collateral ligament. Ice, wrap, and stay off it for a few days. Try not to do any extraneous activities and be more careful in your fights.” John delivered his verdict professionally and caringly, then smirked. “I get the feeling you will ignore most of my advice, so at least ice it when you’re not fighting and I’d suggest practice shooting laying down or sitting for a week while it heals.” He stood and brushed off his knees, then looked around to see almost everyone staring at him. “What?”

       “I think they’re just in shock there is a real medic on the team,” a female voice from the hallway spoke up. John took a step back to see around the other men and couldn’t help staring a little. A gorgeous redhead walked into the room, hips swaying with each step. Sherlock also turned to look at the woman, and John was expecting a flurry of deductions. Instead, Sherlock’s face fell into the baffled expression John so rarely saw. In fact, the last time Sherlock had been dumbfounded like that was when he was in the presence of Irene Adler. Sherlock had his poker face on again, and extended a hand to the woman with a respectful nod.

       “You are very skilled at hiding yourself in plain sight, an admirable talent. Even now I cannot be sure the information you are projecting is correct. Sherlock Holmes.”

       “Natasha Romanoff.” She shook his hand with a little smile. John walked over to them, and the other gathered men seemed to be shaken from whatever shock had frozen them. They dispersed, though Clint remained on the couch at Steve’s instance while the Captain went to get him an ice pack. John also shook Natasha’s delicate hand.

       “Doctor John Watson,” he introduced himself politely. She smiled a little wider.

       “I know. I was listening.”

       John gave her a warm but wary smile; he knew a professional killer when he saw one. Sherlock looked around the room, a small smile on his lips. Though he doubted he would see many murders here—indeed, they were attempting to stop many deaths—he did not fear his mind would stagnate. There was much here to keep his mind occupied, and he reveled in the chance to use the full range of his knowledge. He was not going to be bored for many months…weeks, at least.


	7. Let Them Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick post regarding timelines just so everyone has some reference. We’ve had to take some liberties with dates but hopefully everything makes sense.
> 
> Supernatural: Early Season 5, somewhere after Lucifer is released obviously and technically before they encounter the first Horseman although some canon details after said encounter may come up.
> 
> Doctor Who: Somewhere early Season 2. The Doctor’s timeline is pretty wibbly wobbly but as far as characterization goes I’d peg it around School Reunion.
> 
> Avengers: Post Chitauri. This one is pretty straightforward and in alignment with the movie verse.
> 
> Torchwood: Post Season 2 but pre Children of Earth. In Doctor Who time this would mean Post The Stolen Earth arc but pre End of Time. Our Doctor is jumping timelines so, as you’ll find out, our story Jack has experienced things the Doctor hasn’t yet.
> 
> Sherlock: Post Reichenbach and Sherlock has returned already (duh) and has been back at 221 B for roughly three years before being recruited for the Anti-Apocalypse Squad (hopefully Tony or someone will come up with something better than that team name though).

       Loki walked around the loft aimlessly. Lucifer had gone off on another drafting mission, leaving Loki alone to wander. He'd been through every room at least twice; each one was just as bleak and empty as the one before. Under Lucifer's orders, all the curtains were drawn and the door bolted shut, not to be opened for any reason. Before he'd gone, he had drawn some curious symbols on the wall and the floor, wards in a language Loki didn't recognize.

       Despite Lucifer's explicit instructions, Loki couldn't help peeking through the curtains at least once. Through the maze of skyscrapers, he could just see the beacon that was Avengers Tower. It was different than he remembered it, obviously. The city was still recovering from his last encounter in some ways but many things had already been rebuilt. People were walking along the streets below, going about their business as usual as if their entire world hadn't been shaken only a few short years ago.

       Loki shut the curtains at the thought. Perhaps for them it was only a few short years ago. People had moved on, buildings were reconstructed, and life returned to the city. This was New York after all; the people were renowned for being strong and able to survive. Perhaps they hadn't forgotten but they had certainly put it behind them.

       Four years. In the grand scheme of things it didn't seem that important. Humans lived for a long time, gods for even longer. But four years had stretched into an eternity in the cave. Every second chained to that rock felt like days. Each scream that tore from his lungs lasted months. The echoes rang in his ears and Loki felt the trickle of venom on his face once again. His heart started pounding and his breath grew shallow as he clawed at his cheeks, trying to rid himself of the phantom memory.

       He collapsed onto the couch, curling in on himself and shutting out the dark, empty room and willing his mind to bring him somewhere warm and full of light. He pictured one of the spots he and Thor used to visit when they were younger. It was away from the city, secluded but open allowing light to flood in. The grass was green and lush, the rumble of the nearby waterfall creating a soothing background noise, and they could see the colors of the Bifröst burning in the distance. The memory brought simultaneous comfort and a different kind of pain as Loki's stomach clenched with thoughts of Thor. The face of his brother permeated his vision, images of his near expressionless face as he stood at Odin's side during Loki's sentencing.

       Then he could see him laughing. He could see him drinking and joking with the other Avengers. His new family.

       A wave of betrayal washed over Loki and any thought of his suffering in the cave was replaced with anger. Thor had taken him back to Asgard in chains, hadn't said a word against the verdict to lock Loki away, and as soon as Loki was gone he had disappeared back to Earth to be reunited with the team responsible for his brother's demise and that woman who had turned him soft to begin with.

       Loki rose off of the couch and whirled around. He reached down and grabbed the underside of the couch, yelling as he flipped it across the room. It crashed against the wall, causing the room to shake and splinters to fly.

       "Well, what do you expect us to sit on now?" An unfamiliar voice dripping with sarcasm and an Irish lilt sounded behind him. Loki turned sharply, his green cloak whipping behind him. In his fit, he didn't hear the whisper of Lucifer's wings as he reappeared, accompanied by a shorter man in a suit.

       "My apologies," Loki growled. He straightened his garments as Lucifer looked between him and the couch with a raised eyebrow. The Devil walked over to inspect the damage, tracing the cracks in the wall.

       Loki eyed the newcomer with apprehension, looking the man up and down and trying to figure how someone so unassuming fit into Lucifer's master plan. He was clean-cut in his suit and neatly combed hair, but short and slight in stature. On the surface, he wasn't much to look at. But the second Loki looked him in the eye, he understood exactly why Lucifer wanted this man on their side. This outside projection was utterly deceptive; inside he was cold and dark, ruthless and cunning. It wasn't his strength Lucifer needed; it was his mind that was dangerous.

       He watched Loki look him over, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands in his pockets. His eyebrows tilted slightly and he smirked. "If you're trying to deduce me, I wouldn't get your hopes up. I've gone up against the best and even he came out surprised."

       "You also came out dead so I'd be careful what you're bragging about," Lucifer said, stepping back into the center of the room. "This is Jim Moriarty, self-proclaimed consulting criminal. And this is Loki Laufeyson, god of mischief."

       "And this is it, then?" Moriarty said, pulling a hand out from his pocket and gesturing between the three of them. "The three of us are going to take over the world? Someone thinks a lot of himself, doesn't he?"

       "Perhaps you should remember that we have power that extends beyond the capabilities of your mortal form," Loki jeered, taking a step toward Moriarty. The man looked unimpressed, simply raising his eyebrows as if inviting Loki to continue.

       "Boys, boys. Put the rulers away; we're all on the same side here. And as it happens, Jim," Lucifer began, giving Moriarty a disapproving glare, "there is someone else I have in mind who will be joining us later. But for now, I believe the three of us are more than enough to cause a little mayhem, wouldn't you agree? Besides, I have the entirety of Hell at my disposal and with people these days, we'll never be shorthanded."

       Moriarty shrugged and ambled off to inspect the room. "If you have the armies of Hell at your fingertips what do you need us for? I was quite content torturing souls in the Pit. What's so important that I had to be interrupted?"

       Loki followed him with his eyes, crossing his arms. Although he didn't particularly like Moriarty, even after meeting him such a short time ago, he had to admit he was interested in hearing Lucifer's answer to his question.

       "Demons are dispensable. With a few words they can be thrown back to where they came from and they can't even cross a line of salt. They have their uses, of course, but they're a temporary fix. Powerful enough against the general population but we're going up against the Winchesters. I needed something more long-term, more advanced. The two of you are special. I've chosen you to carry out incredibly important tasks," Lucifer said. Moriarty continued to look unconvinced but Loki felt all the more driven. Lucifer's words to him in the cave came to mind, "I can bring you justice and give you peace but I need your help as well." This was more than a simple order, this was a partnership.

       "What would you have us do?" he said.

       "Not exactly playing hard to get, are we?" Moriarty muttered from across the room, inspecting one of the light fixtures.

       Loki turned to face him, the scowl on his face growing even more. "You can feign disinterest all you like but if this didn't intrigue you, you wouldn't be here, would you?" Loki stalked over to Moriarty, looking down on him. "You can pretend to be bored, but the truth is the prospect of this is so tantalizing you can hardly bear it."

       Moriarty smirked and cocked an eyebrow. "Clever…now we're getting somewhere. There might be some potential in you after all." Loki narrowed his eyes and the two of them tried to stare the other down until Lucifer cleared his throat.

       "Great, now that we're all friends, perhaps you'd be interested in hearing what I have planned."

       Loki ripped his attention from Moriarty and refocused on Lucifer while Moriarty lolled his head to the side so he could see.

       "Anyway, a Time Lord called the Doctor is amassing his own forces and he means to foil us in our Apocalyptic endeavors. As far as I can tell, he's yet to reach his full strength," Lucifer explained, perching precariously on the arm of the upturned sofa. "I know he's already managed to sway the Avengers and he's brought Sherlock Holmes stateside." Moriarty bristled. "But he still has a few other groups to convince. The Winchester brothers are notorious for working their own agenda and without them, they have little chance of succeeding."

       "So why don't we attack now while they're divided?" Loki asked, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

       "Because we're still divided ourselves. And I'd hate to have do introductions twice. No, for now we wait."

       "So every possible barrier to our victory is congregating in New York and you've brought us right to their doorstep?" Moriarty said, slinking around the perimeter of the room.

       "Well, I didn't bring us here because I enjoy the cheesecake." Moriarty rolled his eyes.

       "Who is this fourth member you mentioned, when will he be arriving?" Loki asked.

       Lucifer brought a finger to his lips. "Now that part is a secret. He's got his own grand entrance to make."

       "So until then, we're on our own. You said the Time Lord still had people he had yet to employ. What are we going to do once this Doctor has brought everyone together?"

       Lucifer smiled, a devious, cunning grin that made even Loki slightly uncomfortable. "We let them know we've arrived."


	8. Men Out Of Time

       "Ianto? Come take a look at this," Gwen called, a troubled but curious look on her face as she tried to make sense of the readings in front of her. Ianto came down the steps, a mug of coffee in his hand. He took a sip as he looked over her shoulder at the computer screen. His brow furrowed deeper the longer he stared.

       "Where's Jack?" he asked, setting his cup down and reaching around Gwen to press a few keys on the keyboard.

       "Dunno. Haven't seen him all morning." Ianto let out a frustrated breath and put his hands on his hips. They both whipped their heads around as the door rolled open and Jack stepped through, a smile on his face like always.

       "Can't leave you alone without this place falling apart, can I?" he said, leaping up the stairs to join them at the computer stations.

       "Jack, there's been massive rift spikes in the past few hours. We can't figure out what's causing it," Gwen explained, pointing at the readings on the screen.

       "All we know is that there have been abnormal waves of temporal energy being picked up, not just here in Cardiff but everywhere. Whatever is happening, it's big," Ianto said.

       Jack's smile faded a little as he rubbed his jaw. "Well, this is going to be fun, just the three of us, huh?" Ianto and Gwen exchanged glances. "I wonder if the Doctor knows about this. I would certainly appreciate his company right about now. Well, not that I wouldn't any other time, I mean—"

       "Jack," Ianto interrupted, "the Doctor hasn't been seen since we put the Earth back in its place. As much as we'd all like his help right now, we can't count on it."

       No sooner had the words left his lips when a breeze picked up inside the Hub and a light started flashing. Jack's smile returned instantaneously and he laughed, "Speak of the devil!" When the vworps subsided and the blue police box had materialized fully, Jack dashed down the stairs to greet the Doctor as he emerged. Jack caught him up in a hug, still laughing as he said, "Doctor, am I glad to see you. No doubt you've seen what's going on with the rift. That's why you're here isn't it?"

       The Doctor pulled away, a strange look on his face. "Yeah…it is, but how'd you know it was me? Well, I suppose the TARDIS is a bit of a giveaway but I haven't seen you since…uh, since I left you on that ship in 200,100."

       Jack tilted his head to the side, confused. He waved his hand behind him, motioning for Gwen and Ianto to back up. "You're not…the right Doctor…"

       "Am I not? Ah, yes, I may have jumped a little ahead of schedule but the Apocalypse sometimes calls for drastic measures. Besides, if anyone is a man out of his own time, it's you, Jack."

       "Wait, did you say Apocalypse? That's what all this rift energy is about?"

       "Yup. Revelations, the Devil, seven seals, the whole nine yards. Should be a great time, you coming?" He whirled around and opened the TARDIS door, stepping inside and peeking his head out, one eyebrow raised in question.

       "You know me, always up for an adventure with the Doctor. If this is really Armageddon, you could probably use a guy with nothing to lose, huh?" One side of the Doctor's mouth twitched up in a smirk. "Let me just grab a few things." The Doctor disappeared inside his police box and Jack rushed around the Hub, grabbing things and stuffing them into a duffle bag.

       "Jack, what's going on? What did you mean he wasn't the right Doctor?" Ianto asked, following Jack around the room, handing him things as he packed.

       "He's not the Doctor you met when the Daleks took over, at least not yet."

       "You mean he's from the past?" Gwen leaned over the railing and watched the two men scramble to get Jack ready.

       "Yeah, that's why it was probably best if he didn't see you two yet. Crossing timelines is dangerous enough, if the Doctor's doing it this is definitely some serious business." He pulled on his great coat and threw the duffle over his shoulder.

       "You will come back, won't you?" Ianto said, his voice dropping slightly. Jack pulled him into a one armed hug and kissed his forehead.

       "I always do." With one last wave at Gwen, he stepped into the TARDIS and it began dematerializing, leaving Torchwood Three short of yet another member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more of Torchwood interaction to come, just you wait!


	9. The Apocalypse and Apple Cobbler

       Dean sat at the little table in their hotel room, scrolling through a lore website on the laptop and trying to ignore the growling in his stomach. His cellphone rang and he flipped it open.

        “Yeah?”

        “Dean, it’s Bobby.”

        “Hey, Bobby. What took you so long?”

        “If you haven’t noticed, my mobility’s been limited lately. Don’t test me, boy.”

        “Right, sorry. So, whatya got?” Dean got up from the chair and pulled a beer out of the mini-fridge, flicking the cap off and taking a swig while Bobby gave him the latest news.

        “Nothing much. Normal amount of signs scattered all across the map. A freak storm here, cattle mutilations there, nothing concentrated enough that’ll tell us where Lucifer might be popping up. Have you tried Cas?”

        Dean scrubbed his face, his eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion. “Yeah, dude’s got nothing either.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Bobby, I’m feeling way outta my league on this one. And with Sam…I’m not sure how I’m gonna pull through.”

        “Yeah, well, join the club, sunshine.”

        Dean grunted. “Call me back if you get anything.”

        “Same goes for you. And Dean? Don’t get yourself killed.”

        “I’m working on it.” He hung up and chucked his phone on the bed, jumping a little when Sam unlocked the door and came in with several grocery bags. Dean laughed and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Finally! What took you so long? Where’s the pie?”

        Sam shot him a disapproving glare, setting the sacks down in the kitchenette and digging through one before tossing Dean a small box. Dean licked his lips and went to open it but stopped as he read the label. His eyes flicked between Sam and the box, a wounded expression on his face.

        “What?” Sam asked, unpacking the other groceries.

        “This is cobbler.”

        “So? What’s the difference?”

        “I asked for pie.”

        “But you like cobbler, right?”

        “That’s not the point. When I ask for pie, I want pie. If I wanted a freaking cobbler I would have told you to get cobbler. It’s all about the mood, Sam. I’m in a pie mood, I can’t eat this.” His cellphone rang again and he threw the box on the counter and went to answer it.

        “Hello?”

        “Dean.”

        “Cas! It’s about time you showed up. We got jack squat. Please tell me you’ve found something.” He grabbed his beer and sat back down at the computer.

        “Where are you?”

        “Uh…” Dean scrambled to find their room key. “Room 3, Eastgate Motel in Chattanooga, Tennessee…” He trailed off as the ruffle of wings indicated Cas’s arrival in the middle of the room. Dean snapped his phone shut and stood up to greet the angel.

        “So? Did it work?” he said, holding his hands out and waiting for an answer. Sam finished with the groceries and went over to join them, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall.

        “No. The amulet has led me nowhere. There’s something else, however. I don’t know what it is for sure, but the angels keep talking about it. Someone has been manipulating time. They’re gathering forces together but the angels don’t know what for. Whoever or whatever it is, the angels are afraid.”

        “So…this…time traveler? He’s on Lucifer’s side?” Dean asked.

        “They don’t know. For all they can tell, he could be on no one’s side.”

        “Well, this could work for us, right?” Sam said, pushing off from the wall to start pacing. “I mean, if this guy is powerful enough to control time, maybe he could help us find Lucifer.”

        “Yeah, Sam, and he could just as easily throw us back to be eaten by dinosaurs if he decides he doesn’t like us.”

        “The point is,” Castiel interrupted, “we don’t know what his motive is and he could show up anywhere at any time so we need to be careful.”

        Outside the window, a flashing blue light illuminated the room, accompanied by a whining screech that punctuated the night air.

        “Someone needs to get their brakes checked,” Dean said before being shushed by his brother. Sam tiptoed toward the window, pulling the curtains back an inch and peering out.

        “What the f—” He was cut off by a knock on the door. The three exchanged looks and went for their weapons. Dean slipped his gun out from under his pillow, Castiel slid his Angel Sword out of his sleeve, and Sam pulled Ruby’s knife from his backpack. They waited, not daring to breathe, all primed for attack. There was mumbling outside of the door, whoever it was seemed to be arguing amongst themselves.

        With a crack, the door splintered open and a man in a long coat tumbled through, swearing. He was followed by a second man in an even longer coat and a girl with blonde hair.

        “I told you to kick it, Jack. You’re not supposed to use your shoulder.” The man, Jack apparently, regained his balance and sneered at the other man, rubbing his shoulder.

        “Right, well, terribly sorry about that!” the second man said, turning his attention to Sam, Dean, and Castiel, “we would have waited but we’re on a tight schedule. You must be the Winchesters!”

        Dean clicked the safety off his gun and aimed it at the man. “Cas, I thought you said angels couldn’t find us.”

        “He’s not an angel. He’s the time traveler,” Castiel replied, relaxing slightly.

        “That’s true, not an angel. But thank you for the compliment.” He smiled and stuck his hands in his pockets. Jack elbowed in front of the man and went up to Castiel with a flirty smile.

        “He may not be an angel, but you?” He paused to give Castiel an appreciative once-over, “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” Jack laughed at his own joke.

        “Yes. It was excruciating. I was ripped to pieces by an archangel and my body was strewn all over the walls. I’ve been told they found my molar in a prophet’s hair.”

        Dean suppressed a smile. Jack blinked, trying to decide if Castiel was joking or not. He took a few steps back and returned to his spot behind the other man, who had closed his eyes in exasperation and was obviously resisting the urge to put his hand over his face at his companion’s antics.

        Sam lowered his knife, gazing critically at the strangers. A fleeting thought, that now Castiel’s trenchcoat wouldn’t be lonely, flew through his mind before he asked a far more important question: “If you’re not an angel, who and what are you? And how can you travel through time?”

        “Oh, right! Introductions. I am the Doctor, this is Rose Tyler, and he is Jack Harkness.” The man in the longest coat pointed to each person as he named them.

        “CAPTAIN Jack Harkness,” Jack amended.

        Dean frowned, his gun still raised and ready to fire at a moment’s notice. “‘The Doctor’? That’s a title. Don’t you have a name?”

        The Doctor frowned a bit. “Yes, but a Time Lord does not give away the knowledge of his name freely. Names have power, after all.”

        “Time Lord?”

        “Yes. From the planet Gallifrey.”

        Sam’s eyes bugged out a bit. “You’re from another planet??”

        “Oh that’s just great,” Dean bitched, waving his gun around slightly to accentuate his point, but never taking it off their visitors, “as if we don’t have enough on our plates right now! Angels, the Apocalypse, apple cobbler, and now ALIENS?!”

        “Alien. In the singular,” the blonde woman, Rose, retorted. “I’m human. Jack is too.”

        Sam opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Dean got to the point: “Why are you here? What the hell do you want with us?”

        “Right!” The Doctor looked at the two hunters and the angel. “There is an Apocalypse coming--”

        “We know,” they said blandly.

        The Doctor pouted. “You didn’t let me finish. As I was saying, someone wants to bring the world to an end--”

        “His name is Lucifer,” Sam butted in, raising an eyebrow at the Doctor.

        “AGAIN with the interrupting!” The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an aggravated sigh. “I’m compiling a team of the best defenders the Earth currently has to defeat those who would end her. And I would like you to be on it.”

        Dean was about to respond but Sam grabbed his arm and spoke to the Doctor. “Can we talk about this is private for a few minutes?”

        “Yeah, of course, we can wait. Not too long, obviously, but...” He casually looked around, as if waiting. Sam stared at him.

        “..Could you please leave so we can talk?”

        The Doctor looked confused for a moment, then it changed to an expression of sudden understanding. He mouthed “oh riiiight” as he did an exaggerated nod. “Right, right, sorry, we’ll just, um--”

        Rose was pushing him through the door. “We’ll be outside when you’re ready to talk to us again.”

        The three filed out and Dean pulled Sam aside.

        “Are you crazy? We can’t go with them. We have no idea who these people are!”

        “I’m not saying we should just jump into this, Dean, but they could help us get to Lucifer faster.”

        “Well, the last time we trusted your judgment, we got into this mess in the first place so forgive me if I’m a little hesitant.”

        Sam looked down at his shoes.

        “If I may interject,” Castiel said, “Some of my power may be cut off from Heaven but I can tell enough that I believe their intentions are noble. Although Jack makes me...uncomfortable.”

        “Yeah, you and me both,” Dean said.

        “I think Sam is right. While we may not be able to trust them yet, it would be to our benefit to work with them for the time being.”

        Dean’s mouth formed a thin line and he rubbed his jaw, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Alright, fine. But first sign of anything skeevy and we’re back on the road, got it?”

        Sam nodded curtly and the three of them packed up their things and went outside.

        Jack, Rose, and the Doctor stood in a little circle by the door of the TARDIS, talking in low voices as the second trio approached. The Doctor looked up as they came out, gently pushing Jack and Rose aside to greet them.

        “So? Come to a decision, have we? A good one, if the bags are anything to go by. Am I right?”

        Dean ground his teeth and looked around with an angry pout before tersely agreeing. “We’ll go. I still don’t like this, but it’ll help us find Lucifer.”

        “Excellent!!” The Doctor exclaimed, clapping his hands. “Grab your gear, we’ll go in my TARDIS! Off to Avengers Tower!”

        “.....that thing flies, doesn’t it?” The question from Dean was unexpected. Sam looked confused then slapped a hand to his forehead.

        “Dean...” the younger Winchester groaned. Dean just tightened his lips and backed away to lean against the Impala.

        “No. No. You will not get me in that thing. You cannot. I won’t. Give me the address, I’ll drive.”

        The Doctor raised his eyebrows while also looking confused and concerned. “The TARDIS will be a lot faster...”

        “I don’t give a flying rat’s ass, I am DRIVING there.”

        Jack raised his hand with great enthusiasm. “I’ll ride with him!”

        Castiel narrowed a glare at the captain and took a not-very-subtle step so he was between Dean and Jack. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

        Jack’s eyes darted between Castiel and Dean, his eyebrows climbing higher on his forehead. He met Castiel’s gaze again and held up his hands, bowing his head a touch. “Alright, I understand. Wouldn’t want to interfere with your bonding time.” He gave a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. “Though I--”

        “JACK!” The annoyed and disapproving voice of the Doctor cut off whatever he was about to say. Jack winked at the angel and hunter and turned around to enter the TARDIS. The Doctor rolled his eyes as Jack passed him in the doorway, brushing a little closer than was necessary. Meanwhile, Sam leant down to talk to Dean through the open driver’s window after Dean climbed in.

        “Did he say Avengers? Like the Avengers?”

        Dean was looking at a huge map of the area they were in, plotting his route to New York. “You better friggin’ hope so. If I’m getting dragged all over the country in pursuit of a time travelling phone box, the least they can do is put me in the same room as Black Widow.”

        Sam rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I’m going to ride in the TARDIS.”

        Dean glanced away from his map to smirk at Sam. “I’ll bet your little nerdy heart is just singing praises right now. A spaceship, a time machine, AND superheroes?? You must be so ecstatic.”

        Sam shifted his weight on his feet, fighting back a huge grin. “It is pretty cool. You gonna be alright without any company on the road?”

        “Yeah, I'll be fine, I’ve done more solo hunts than, well... I’m more worried about you in there with that.....guy. You stay away from him, ya hear?”

        Sam laughed,supporting himself with his hands on the roof of the car. “Don’t worry, he’s not my type. I’ll be cautious around him, though I don’t think he’ll try anything. I think he just likes flirting.”

        “Yeah, well, still. It should take me half a day to get to New York, though I’ll probably spend the other half in traffic.”

        Sam gave a last pat to the top of the Impala and grabbed his bag off the ground. “I’ll see you in New York.”

        Castiel listened to the brothers talk and gave a nod as Sam took his exit before taking his place by the Impala’s window. “I’m going to continue the search with the amulet. I will meet you in New York when time allows.”

        “Yeah, okay. Don’t forget to drop in if you find anything.”

        “Of course.”

        “Are you ready to go, Sam, Dean, Castiel?” The Doctor called out. Sam politely slipped by him. Dean revved his engine, grinning at her purr. The Doctor gave a call of “Allons-y!!” and shut the door to his TARDIS. The light on the top flashed and it slowly faded from existence. Dean stared at where it used to be, then turned to say goodbye to Cas; he was already gone.

        “Well, this is gonna get real annoying real fast,” he grumbled, putting the Impala into drive and zooming out of Chattanooga.


	10. A Big Bag of Crazy

       Sam stepped into the TARDIS after Jack. He froze in the doorway, his eyes growing huge. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

        “It…it’s bigger on the inside?! Well,” he gestured toward the room, “I-I mean, I kinda guessed it had to be bigger, but....not , not this big," Sam exhaled. "Wow."

        Rose gave him a sympathetic smile. “You get used to it after a while.”

        Sam slowly made his way up the ramp, gazing around. There were huge, root-like structures that lined the large room, giving it a strange blend of organic and mechanical attributes. In the center of the room was a round, bulbous structure with a large, glowing blue cylinder coming straight up from the center of it. As Sam got closer, he could see a wide array of strange objects that were attached or embedded in what he assumed what the control panel. The whole thing glowed an eerie blue from within.

        There was also a three-seater couch…thing that looked like it belonged in the back of a plane or something off to one side of the raised platform that served as the main floor of the TARDIS but through the latticework Sam could see a tangle of wires and other various mechanisms. Rose was sitting on the couch-thing and she patted the empty spot next her. Sam warily sat down and put his bag between his feet. He peered at the control panel, his brow furrowed.

        “Is that…a VCR remote?”

        Among the wires and levers, the flatscreen monitors and strange keyboards, were objects he would expect to find in a kitchen or a junk shop. Bits of a rotary phone, a hand-cranked egg beater, an oddly colored glass sphere, dials and switches and buttons, it was some form of very organized chaos. There was even what looked like the bell of an old bicycle. Sam reached for it, curious, but the Doctor caught his hand.

        “Don’t touch that,” he warned gravely. “Don’t touch anything on this without my permission.”

        Sam retracted his hand. “Gotcha. Noooo touchy.”

        The youngest Winchester put his hands in his hoodie pocket and looked around. There were thick cables running along the bottom of the walls, and a mess of them under the translucent floor, dimly lit in a whiter shade of blue than the central console. He turned around, examining the area, and saw a walkway to another smaller platform that had a tight spiral staircase going both up into the ceiling and down into the floor.

        “Where does that go?” he asked Rose. The Doctor was quietly talking with Jack as he fiddled with something on the console.

        “The other rooms. There are, I dunno, probably an infinite amount of them. Well, maybe not infinite, but there sure are a lot.” She smiled at him. “This is a spaceship, ya know. The Doctor told me the TARDISs were meant to hold a vast amount of Time Lords.” Her voice grew softer. “Armies of them, even. But,” and her voice went back to normal volumes, “now it’s just The Doctor and I and this great big ship.”

        “Do you ever get lost?”

        “You learn not to venture too far in without a guide,” Rose laughed. “But there is a pool. And a library, great big library, as well as some other fun rooms. We don’t use them much, but they’re good for relaxing when we’re between worlds or the TARDIS needs a repair or sumthin.”

        “Does that happen often?”

        “Not really.”

        “Where all do you go, with him, in this?” Sam was curious. These two, the Doctor and Rose, they could go anywhere and anywhen they liked.

        “Well,” Rose smiled and leaned back on the couch, “we’ve been loads of places. Went back and met Queen Victoria and a werewolf, that was sorta fun. Been to the end of the world, the beginning of others. Space colonies. Cities in the hearts of planets.” She paused, reflective, then laughed. “We usually get into trouble or stop trouble wherever we go. And there is always a lot of running involved.” She held one leg out straight, inspecting her muscles. “My calves are in the best shape of my entire life.” Sam laughed at that and Rose joined him. “Yea, I know, right? It’s like, I didn’t know I signed up for the intergalactic marathon training program.” The humans laughed some more.

        The Doctor smiled at them from around the glowing central column. Rose was telling Sam about one of their adventures in the distant future, in the city of New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York, where cat doctors had been using engineered people as lab rats. Sam looked both properly revolted and fascinated.

        “We’re here,” the Doctor called out as the TARDIS shuddered to a stop. “Grab your stuff, it’s time to meet who you’ll be working with.”

        Sam grabbed his bag and followed Rose and Jack out of the TARDIS.

~*~

       Dean was eating blueberry pie at a small diner; he shot Cas a short text message with his location in case he had anything to share. He didn’t even glance up when he heard the whisper of Castiel’s wings. He chewed the mouthful he had currently and wiped his mouth before speaking, looking up at the angel that sat across the table from him.

        “So, do the other angels suspect anything yet?”

        Cas was silent for a few moments. Dean ate more pie. “It’s difficult to say. It seems the Doctor is an elusive man, even if you know what you’re looking for. It’s possible they’ve found something but I don’t think they’ll catch up with him until he wants them to.”

        “Do we even know anything about him?”

        “Only that he’s been here before. I’ve tried to look into it but I don’t want to tip off the garrison.”

        “Yeah, I’ll call Bobby and see if he has anything to say about it. I’ll see you la--” Cas disappeared and Dean slumped his shoulders in annoyance. He took another bite of pie and worked his phone out of his pocket.

        Bobby picked up on the third ring.

        “Hey, Bobby. We got a lead but I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

        “Well, spill. What’d you find?”

        “Cas said the angels have been trying to track down this time traveler. Apparently he’s gathering a little army and the angels aren’t very happy about it.”

        “So, what? You think he might be worth looking into?”

        “More like he thought we’d be worth looking into. He showed up at our motel.” Dean stabbed at his pie.

        “So he ain’t fooled by angel or demon wards. What does that make him then?”

        “He said he was an alien, something about a time lord. That he came from some planet named Gallifrey. Called himself the Doctor.”

        “‘The Doctor?’ Is he some Voyager nut? Doctor who?”

        “I don’t know, Bobby. Could be an alias. He didn’t actually tell us much.” Dean smiled at the waitress as she took his empty plate and threw down a couple bucks before getting up and heading out of the diner.

        “Well, what all did he tell you?”

        “Nothing we didn’t already know. He knows about Lucifer and the Apocalypse and said he wanted us on his team to help stop him. He’s got this blue box thing that’s apparently a space ship. He’s taking Sam to Avengers Tower in New York.”

        “Sam? What about you?”

        “Like hell I was getting in that thing. I’m driving there.”

        “You let Sam go off by himself with some alien you met for five minutes? You idjit, what were you thinking?!”

        “I was thinking he could keep an eye on them! Cas said they were good as far as he could tell and we needed someone on the inside to get more information. We didn’t have much of a choice, Bobby, give me a break.” Dean slammed the door of the Impala and fished his keys out. “Listen, we still don’t know much. Would you look him up?”

        “Yeah, yeah. But when your brother gets lost in space, don’t come crying to me.”

        “Thanks, Bobby.” Dean hung up, tossed his phone into the passenger seat, and started the car, cranking up Metallica to make himself feel better.

~*~

       Sam stepped out of the TARDIS, his eyes wide as the fact that he had just traveled from Tennessee to New York is a TIME-TRAVELING SPACESHIP hit him fully. “That...that was amazing!” He looked around himself. “Where are we?”

        “A storage room in the Avenger’s Tower. It’s further away from the top than is really practical in an emergency, but it is more secure down here.” The Doctor was the last one out and he locked the door behind them, slipping the key into his pocket.

        Jack laughed at the painted area around the TARDIS. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a spot designated for TARDISs to land.”

        “Tony protested when we landed in the living room.”

        Rose heard the whirring of the elevator, which meant Tony was probably on his way down to greet them. He and the Doctor had installed a program in JARVIS that would detect when the TARDIS was materializing so someone would be there to let them up into the main tower and to explain things to the new people or person .

        Sam was looking around the rather dull room curiously when a voice suddenly spoke from all around him: “Good afternoon, Doctor, Rose. Welcome to the Tower--” Sam had a silver handgun out and pointing around in less than a human heartbeat. His eyes were wide and a little crazy, whirling to look all around him. The Doctor, Rose, and Jack all froze, baffled and concerned. Sam had gone from fun and laughing to lunatic and armed in less time than it took Jack to come up with a dirty joke.

        “Who and what the hell are you?!” Sam demanded, brandishing his gun at the ceiling. “Show yourself!!”

        “I would really prefer it if you DIDN’T shoot my house, thanks all the same.”

        The wry voice made them all turn toward the elevator, Sam’s gun leveled at the speaker. Tony gave him a really? You’re going there? Look and made a show of holding up his hands slowly.

        “Easy there, Gunsmoke, I’m not sure what your issue is but I’m quite sure that 9x19 millimeter bullets are not the answer. They rarely are. I mean, really, if you’re going to threaten me, pull out the big guns, I deserves at LEAST .50 caliber, better yet, a rocket, though a nuke didn’t stop me so I don’t see how your little peashooter will do much dama--”

        “Who are y-- Wait a second, Tony Stark?! What... I... Who or what was that voice?!” Sam gestured slightly with the gun. The Doctor frowned at him, putting a hand on the barrel and pushing it down.

        “I will tell you something, Sam Winchester,” The Doctor said in a low, dark voice, keeping eye contact with Sam, “and it would do you good to remember this: I don’t like guns. I don’t like unnecessary violence. I’m not a fan of violence at all, but I know that sometimes there isn’t a peaceful solution, though I will try my damnedest to find it before I have to kill anyone. When you’re in my presence, I suggest you do the same or you and I will not get along very well. Do I make myself clear?”

        Sam remembered Dean telling him “he could just as easily throw us back to be eaten by dinosaurs if he decides he doesn’t like us” back at the motel. Sam swallowed thickly and lowered his gun, locking the safety. He nodded.

        “Good!” The Doctor was bright and cheery again and Sam shuddered at the after image of that serious, dangerous, ancient face. His eyes had seemed to bore a hole right into him.

        Tony’s eyebrows were nearly touching his hairline. Well, THAT’S a side of our friendly neighborhood Doctor I have not seen before. The man, young man really, barely looked a few years out of college. But Tony could tell they were road-haggard years; he could see the strain of them etched into his face. Sam approached Tony and offered him an apologetic smile and a hand to shake.

        “Sorry I freaked out. I’m Sam Winchester.”

        “Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, occasional superhero.” Tony shook his hand briefly. “That voice was JARVIS, the AI that runs the Tower. Say hello, JARVIS.”

        “Hello.” JARVIS sounded amused.

        Sam looked toward the ceiling. “Sorry I, uh, tried to shoot you.” I am talking to a building…and it’s talking back…

        “No harm done, Mr. Winchester, and no insult taken.”

        “Please, call me Sam.”

        “Very well, Sam.”

        Jack and Rose came up to join them. Jack spoke toward the ceiling. “You can call me whatever you want,” and he winked. The Doctor rolled his eyes.

        “As you wish, Whatever You Want.”

        Jack laughed, tipping his head back. “Oooh, you’ve got some sass in your coding. I like it.”

        “He takes after me in some ways, but really he has developed quite the personality of his own,” Tony commented. “I don’t remember giving him a sarcasm program, but he uses it on me constantly.” Tony gave Jack a charming smile, holding out his hand to shake. “You must be Captain Jack Harkness.”

        Jack shook his hand, his eyes taking in Tony from his feet to his messy hair. “And with a quick wit and attitude like that, you must be Tony Stark. I’ve seen you on TV.” Jack’s smile was equally as charming. “I must say, you are much more attractive in person.”

        The Doctor rolled his eyes again, but Tony only grinned wider. “Is that so? Well, they do say the camera adds ten pounds.”

        “Ten pounds can be quite sexy in all the right places.”

        Tony released Jack’s hand with a laugh, obviously enjoying the banter. “As much as I appreciate your appreciation of me, and really everyone should appreciate me more so your reaction is entirely right in my mind, I must inform you that I have a wonderful girlfriend that runs my company and is really very terrifying when she puts her mind to it.”

        “Oh, I don’t mind sharing,” Jack quirked his eyebrows. Rose bit her lips to keep herself from laughing while Sam looked mildly uncomfortable. Tony’s eyebrows quirked in return and he gave Jack a quick assessing glance with his eyes.

        “Is that so…”

        “Sir.” JARVIS’s voice sounded both amused and a touch exasperated.

        “Right, right, time to get the tour.” Tony gestured for the Doctor to take the lead, typing something into his phone as they walked. Doors slid open on the wall to reveal the elevator.

        Tony ushered them all into the waiting elevator and a button lit up. They rode up to the 45th floor as Tony told them about the sections of the tower.

        “Lobby and public areas on the ground floors as well as services, management and offices are floors five through 40. Private quarters go from 41 to 54. Each Avenger has their own floor from 47 to 54, but you will be staying on the same floor as the other allies the Doctor has brought in from your specific area. Jack, you will be on the same floor as the Doctor and Rose, number 46; Sam, you, your brother, and Castiel will be on 45; and our friends from across the pond are on 44. There are dining halls from floor 55 to floor 58, but we rarely use them. The main kitchen, living room, and all training rooms as well as the lounge and game room are on floors 59 to 69. The party deck goes from 70 through 73, medical is on floor 74, and the R&D labs are 75 through 89.”

        Tony sounded almost bored as he explained the floor system of the Tower, as if it was a speech he had been forced to memorize and he just wanted to get it over with. He brightened fractionally as he pointed to a button that had ‘P’ next to it. “This goes to the penthouse floor, which is where I live. It also connects to the roof. Floors 90 and 91 are for the most part off-limits, except for the Quinjet hanger, but you’re not allowed in there without an Avenger with you or special permission. Some of the R&D labs are also off-limits and JARVIS will let you know if you try to go anywhere you’re not supposed to. JARVIS is the authority here, so if he says not to go somewhere, don’t go there. He will help you and will answer just about any question, however, so if you need something ask him first.” Tony took a breath as the elevator ‘dinged’ at floor 45. He got out and Sam and Jack followed. The Doctor and Rose stayed in the elevator, however.

        “We’ll meet you in the living room,” the Doctor said as the door closed.

        Tony led the newest arrivals through a slightly curved hallway to a room with a piece of paper tacked to it that read “Sam Winchester.” To its far right was to the door labeled “Dean Winchester,” to the far left was the one labeled “Castiel,” both doors just able to be seen by standing in front of Sam’s door. Sam liked that he’d easily be able to see if something was obviously wrong in either of their rooms at a look, and knew that the other two doors could probably be seen in all of the doorways.

        “Okay, Desperado, here’s your room. Go ahead and get your stuff unpacked, get settled in. I’ll take Jack up to his. Wait for me in the hallway when you’re done.” Tony was grinning like the rooms held a secret prize. Sam opened his door and looked around. It was furnished with modern but comfortable-looking pieces, like a soft velour couch in front of the widescreen TV, a bed that looked like it had one of those memory foam mattresses, and matching dressers as well as a closet for his clothes. It was a simple set of rooms, but functional and elegant. He even had his own bathroom, which was awesome. Windows made up one entire wall in both the bedroom and living room area.

        Jack, too, noticed that the other doors were within the sight of his door, probably for safety. Tony headed back to the elevator after giving Jack similar instructions, saying he would wait for Sam.

        Jack’s room was decked out in dark wood furniture, with a four-poster bed and matching side table plus a chest of drawers. The molding on the ceiling and floor joints were also a dark stained hardwood. Everything looked elegant and stylish while still feeling cozy. Jack grinned as he explored the suite. It was bigger than one person really needed, especially the bed, and he wished Ianto were here so they could make proper use of the extra space. He smirked; of course, if Ianto were here, likely very little would really get done.

        There was a small kitchen area connected to the living room part of the suites, with a small table and two chairs, as well as a mini-fridge, microwave, and small stove. Sam’s table was made of metal and plastics, to match the rest of the room. Jack’s was a deep mahogany wood, seams almost unable to be seen. Both were high-end, quality items and could seat one to two people in the matching chairs provided. Both also had a tablet sitting in the center of said tables, with files of information on their teammates ready to be reviewed. It took Sam some playing around with the technology to get the hang of it and he looked at Dean’s information for the heck of it. His brows rose; they had been very thorough.

        Everything, from Dean’s physiological details to his favorite brand of beer and flavor of pie, had been carefully recorded. There were security footage clips of him, alone and with Sam, doing their hunting thing, many of the clips ones Sam didn’t know existed. A very detailed background search had been done. Sam was both impressed and freaked out. The Winchesters had always done their best to stay off the radar, using fake names and avoiding the government when they could, so how did Stark have so much information on them? This was practically Dean’s entire life. Sam hesitated before pressing on his own file and felt a shudder ripple through his spine as the pages and pages of information loaded. He felt rather, well, stalked.

        He put the tablet back on the table, deciding he would rather meet the other people in the Tower before reading about them and went to the door. Tony was waiting for him in the hall, leaning on the wall next to Sam’s door. The hunter jumped when he turned and Tony was right in front of him, not expecting him to be there, but his heart quickly went back to a normal rhythm. Tony was playing with something on his phone, which looked very similar to the tablet in Sam’s room. The billionaire looked up as Sam closed the door behind him and grinned.

        “You like it?”

        “Well, it’s a lot better than the places I’ve stayed at before, that’s for sure.” Sam followed Tony into the elevator. They rode up to Jack’s level, where the man was leaning on the wall of the hallway near them. He stepped in when the doors opened, grinning.

        “Love the room, Tony, very cozy.”

        “Excellent. Pepper chose the interior decorators. Apparently, I can’t be trusted with such things.” Tony shrugged with a smirk, pressing one of the higher buttons. They rode in silence, the gentle hum of the elevator motor and Tony’s mutterings at his tablet/phone the only sounds as Sam and Jack were lost in thought. The display dinged and the doors opened to reveal an open-floor style common area. There was a spacious kitchen with a huge wooden table surrounded by an assortment of chairs. A low wall that doubled as a bar or countertop separated it from the large living room that had a huge TV around which were an arc of sofas and armchairs. A hallway to either side led to more rooms. The Doctor and Rose were sitting on one of the couches, examining the contents of a tablet, and they looked up when the elevator opened.

        “Like the rooms?” Rose asked. Jack sat down on the other side of the Doctor, grinning.

        “Better than my place at the Hub, but it doesn’t feel like home,” he replied. He turned his attention to the holographic screen. “What’re we watching?”

        Sam stood awkwardly in the entryway, looking around. Tony went to the minibar part of the kitchen to make himself a drink. The hunter decided to follow him rather than intrude on the time-traveling trio.

        “Where is everyone else?” Sam asked, having expected there to be a welcoming party and rather glad there wasn’t.

        “Oh, around.” Tony swirled his whiskey in the tumbler, making the ice cubes clink, before downing the amber liquid. “Some felt it would be easier on you lot if they weren’t all crowded in one room when you lot got here. They’re doing their thing, but they’ll trickle in to meet you, have no fear, Lone Ranger.”

        Sam furrowed his brow. “Why do you keep calling me the titles of TV Westerns?”

        Tony laughed. “You whipped out a gun from nowhere in no time flat like a dueler of old, what else am I supposed to call you?”

        “Gee, I dunno, uh, how about my name?”

        “Boring.” Tony downed the rest of his drink and poured more whiskey into the empty glass. He breezed past Sam, who was still mulling over his new nicknames, and plopped onto the couch next to Jack. He said something flirty and Jack flirted right back. Sam entered the living room in time to see the Doctor and Rose roll their eyes as the innuendos flew through the air. He stood by the window wall, watching tiny dots that were cars and people scurry around far below him.

        The door to the stairway opened and those not telling filthy anecdotes turned to see who it was. A tall, muscular man wearing a sweaty t-shirt and light brown workout pants stepped through the door. He swept his blonde hair back from his face, the strands falling back into a slightly messy coif, and walked toward the kitchen, not noticing the others in the room at first.

        Sam gaped at Captain America as he took a glass out of one of the cabinets. He was out of uniform, but Sam would recognize that face practically anywhere, from both his time as a kid reading his comics and all the hubbub on the news from the Chitauri attack some time ago. Sam had always admired the brave and patriotic Captain, and now his personal hero was not 20 feet from him. He immediately stood up straighter and tried to smooth some of the wrinkles out of his shirt.

        “Ah, Steve!” The Doctor greeted. Captain America turned from filling his glass with water and noticed the tall, young man standing beside the window. He smiled a warm, easy smile and walked over to him.

        “One of our allies, I presume?” He shifted his glass to his left hand and stuck out his right to shake with. “Steve Rogers, C-”

        Sam shook his hand reverently, staring at his face. His voice was breathy with awe. “Captain America. I, um, you’re my hero. I mean, I read all of your comics when I was growing up....Wow. O-oh, I’m Sam Winchester.”

        Steve laughed, “It is good to meet you, Sam. You can call me Ste-”

        “Steve?”

        Steve turned at the cautious, familiar voice that came from one of the couches. Jack had been trading innuendos and flirts with Tony Stark, but now he was standing and staring at Steve with his eyes wide. Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion--then his eyes grew large and his eyebrows rose in shock and recognition.

        “Jack?! Captain Jack Harkness?”

        Jack blinked and snapped to military attention, saluting the other captain. Steve returned the salute and Jack crossed the space between them with large, running steps. They embraced each other tightly, Jack’s arms shaking slightly as he held on to the other soldier. Tony came over and was surprised to see tears escaping from Steve’s eyes.

        After a few minutes, they released each other, though they kept their arms on the other’s shoulders. Jack wiped a tear from his cheek, grinning broadly and uncontrollably.

        “I haven’t seen you since the Battle of St. Vith in 1944. You’re looking....damn, you look exactly like you did when I last saw you. Not even a scratch, despite everything you’ve gone up against, though that’s probably thanks to your Magic Moxie Mélange.”

        “His....what?” Sam asked, baffled. Steve chuckled.

        “It’s what Jack calls my super soldier serum. Or, did. You know, before I froze. Which you did not do, Jack, so how did you survive so unmarked? It is wonderful to see a familiar face, of course, but how did you...? I mean, you look as though you haven’t aged a day!”

        Jack laughed, a warm easy sound, and grinned, leading Steve over to a couch with a hand on his arm. “That is a very long story, but yours seems to be pretty lengthy as well. I hear you’ve been to the North Pole?” The cheeky grin he had was different from the one he normally wore.

        “You...know each other?” the Doctor asked, baffled.

        Steve turned his head to him, though his body still faced Jack. “Yes, we occasionally fought together in World War II. Our divisions did not conjoin very often, for all we were allies, but we did meet sometimes. Some of the other British forces thought me a mascot or less of a soldier than them or they were too awed or afraid of me to talk with me, but Jack made sure I felt welcomed.” He smiled at Jack again here. “We’ve been friends since I first met him.”

        “Not a very long friendship, but bonds are formed quickly during war,” Jack added.

        “That, and you didn’t really give me a choice,” Steve said.

        Jack laughed, clapping him on the shoulder before finally letting go. “Yeah, I can be a little aggressive about making friends.”

        “Well, I can certainly vouch for that,” the Doctor said, turning to Tony who was looking on at the reunion with mild astonishment and curiosity. “He really can get quite pushy when it co—”

        “So, Cap, it seems like you’re not the only old man in the house anymore,” Tony interrupted, leaving the Doctor hanging in midsentence. Tony took a seat in one of the lounge chairs near the couch the captains were on, draping an arm over the back as he scrutinized Jack. “Were you a Capsicle too or how did that work?”

        “Yeah, we’ve got time. How are you still alive?” Steve chimed in, looking from Tony to Jack.

        “Well, it’s all her fault, really,” Jack said, pointing at Rose. She blushed and looked at her feet. “In fact, she caused a lot of trouble that day. Absorbed the Time Vortex, made me immortal, committed Dalek genocide, and caused the Doctor to regenerate.”

        Tony and Steve gawked for a moment, working over Jack’s words one by one. Tony raised a finger and opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Jack waited for him to formulate a coherent response, an amused smile on his face. “I think,” Tony began slowly, “I may have a question for every single thing you mentioned but what I find most interesting is the word ‘regenerate.’”

        “You’ve got ‘time vortex,’ ‘immortality,’ and ‘genocide’ to choose from and you’re curious about regeneration?” Sam asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the bar.

        “Precisely.”

        “I’d be happy to explain but that’s more of the Doctor’s specialty,” Jack said, gesturing for the Doctor to take over from there.

        “Ah, yes. Well, regeneration is just something we Time Lords do. It allows us to recover from major injury or sickness. It’s rather exciting, actually, never know what sort of form you’ll take afterward. Though I’ve still never been a ginger.” He pouted and Rose patted his arm, comfortingly.

        “Fascinating,” Tony said. “So, your body just repairs itself? Your whole physiological structure changes...” The two men carried on talking about hormone triggers and triple helix DNA sequencing, leaving the less scientifically inclined people to congregate by the bar.

        “I guess I can’t say the same for Tony, but the word that catches my attention is immortality. Can you really not die, Jack?” Steve asked, walking behind the counter to get drinks for everyone.

        “As far as I can tell. World goes dark for a minute but then I wake up again, same as ever. I’ve been shot, stabbed, drowned, tortured; you name it, it’s probably happened to me.”

        “Decapitation? In my experience, it’s hard to come back from that one,” Sam said, eyeing Jack suspiciously.

        Jack raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering to try it out?”

        Sam furrowed his brow briefly, then shrugged and shook his head. “Just asking.”

        “Mr. Stark?” a voice sounded on the opposite side of the room and everyone turned to see the newcomer.

        “John! Excellent timing,” Tony declared, going over to the man and guiding him to the small crowd huddled around the bar. “We have some new allies to introduce. John Watson, this is Sam Winchester.” The two men shook hands, nodding politely. “And this is—”

        “Captain Jack Harkness. Quite a big fan actually. I read your blog,” Jack interjected.

        “Y-you read my blog?” John stuttered, shaking hands with Jack.

        “Do I not seem the type?” Jack laughed. “As it turns out, you and I are kind of neighbors. My team works out of Cardiff.”

        “You’re from Wales? What does your team do that makes my blog worth reading?” John asked, a bit flattered.

        “You could say we also deal with homicides and serial killers; ours just tend to be…extraterrestrial in nature.”

        “Do you…do you mean aliens? You solve alien murders?”

        Tony cut in again, reaching between them to grab a drink from Steve. “And this one hunts demons and ghosts. What a big bag of crazy we are.” He tipped the glass back, draining it in one gulp. “But I suppose if we’re dealing with the damn Apocalypse, maybe a little crazy is just what we need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay this week dear readers. We were all in our finals week and wednesday just wasn't a good day for any of us. We're all home now so, we'll be consistent over the rest of winter break now! We hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	11. The Armageddon Party

       The Impala rumbled to a stop in the private parking garage below Stark Tower’s North Building and Dean tried not to let himself get too overwhelmed. As much as he hated to admit it, teaming up with the Avengers was pretty damn exciting. He stepped out of the car and shut the door behind him, gazing around at Stark’s collection of vehicles. Motorcycles, muscle cars, classic cars, sports cars, and even a few prototypes, all on display in the vast garage. Dean leaned back on the Impala and bit his lip to keep himself from salivating.

       “Good afternoon, Mr. Winchester,” a voice sounded from above. Dean swung his head around wildly, trying to locate the source.

       “Hello…?”

       “My name is JARVIS; I am Mr. Stark’s AI. If you’d please remain where you are, Mr. Stark will be down in a moment to escort you to the Main Tower.”

       Dean stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and settled back against the car again. “Alrighty then…”

       “1967 Chevrolet Impala?” a different voice echoed through the garage a few minutes later. Dean looked over to see Iron Man walking toward him and he smothered a childish, giddy grin.

       “Yeah, you like her?” he said, as Tony came up and patted the hood appreciatively.

       “A little road weary but makes her authentic. I had a ’67 myself. A Shelby Cobra.” Dean whistled. “Unfortunately she was the victim of some of my early experimentation.”

       “What happened?”

       “Oh, you know, crash landed right on top of her. Heavy iron suit and all that, wasn’t pretty.”

       “Son of a bitch,” Dean said, running his hand along the Impala’s roof, reluctant to entertain thoughts of her demise. He went and grabbed his bags from the trunk, locking it again before Tony could catch a good glimpse of the weapons cache. “Baby’s been through her fair share of trouble but I’ve fixed her up every time.”

       The two men began walking toward the junction between the North Building and the Main Tower.

       “Ah, Mr. Handy Man, huh? Good, we’ll probably be able to put that to use. How do you feel about robots?”

       They continued talking all the way through the lobby and up the elevator. On the way up, they were startled when Castiel decided to drop in, appearing between them.

       “Holy shit, Cas,” Dean said, backing against the wall of the elevator. “You couldn’t have joined us before we got in the elevator?”

       “My apologies.”

       “You must be angel boy,” Tony said, cuffing Castiel on the shoulder.

       “…Yes, and you must be the arrogant billionaire who owns this tower.”

       “That would be me, indeed.” Tony smiled brilliantly and Cas looked at him, his expression unchanging.

       “Cas, I thought you were gonna call when you were coming. How’d you even know we were in here?” Dean asked, straightening his jacket as he pushed himself off the wall.

       “I asked the receptionist.”

       “Right…”

       The three of them rode the rest of the way in silence until they emerged onto the main party deck floor where everyone was gathered. Dean looked around the room, taking note of the floor-length windows and positions of all the entrances and exits.

       Tony cleared his throat and the general chatter died down as everyone turned their attention to the new arrivals. “Our final recruits have arrived. Everyone, Dean Winchester and Castiel. Dean Winchester and Castiel, everyone.”

       Dean waved as best he could with his hands occupied by his bags and a few other people responded with “Hello” or a small nod or salute.

       “You can drop your bags there for the time being; you can move them down to your room later. But for now,” Tony said, clapping his hands together, “we’re all here. Let the Armageddon Party commence!”

       Jack popped a bottle of champagne and everyone got up to mingle, going up to greet Dean and Castiel or to talk to various other allies.

       Dean went over to Sam who was sitting at the bar. His brother stood up and clasped his shoulder. “Hey, you made it.”

       “Yeah. How was your ride in the Magic School Bus?”

       Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s called a TARDIS, Dean. And it’s really cool; you missed out.”

       “Yeah, well, I’m much happier taking the open road with my Baby. And speaking of babes…” Dean moved Sam to the side and approached Natasha, who was drinking with Clint and Coulson.

       “Hi.”

       “Hi,” she said, barely sparing him a glance and taking a sip of her champagne.

       “I’m Dean.”

       “So I’ve heard.”

       “And you’re Black Widow.” Dean put on what he thought was a charming smile. Natasha set her drink down on the bar as Clint and Coulson hid their smiles behind their glasses.

       “That I’m also aware of.”

       “Right…” Dean laughed nervously, and the three S.H.I.E.L.D agents watched him, waiting for him to continue. “I’m…wasting my time here, aren’t I?”

       Natasha nodded, a tiny smile hinting on her lips. Dean laughed again awkwardly before turning on his heel and going back to Sam who was on the verge of convulsive laughter. “Not a word,” Dean warned, taking a beer from the provided cooler and twisting the cap off. Even Cas, who had come to stand across from Sam, looked mildly amused.

       The rest of the of the allies had branched off into other parts of the room, falling into easy conversation. Tony joined the Doctor, Rose, and Bruce in a discussion of space travel. Jack, Steve, John, and Thor sat together on the couches, sharing war stories and laughing heartily as Jack re-enacted an air battle, complete with sound effects. Of course, Clint, Natasha, and Coulson were huddled at the end of the bar, probably talking about secret agent business. Sherlock was off by himself, standing by the windows and staring out over the cityscape as if he was going to deduce all of New York.

       Sam watched the stoic detective over his glass of Jack Daniels, ignoring his brother’s complaints over the female-to-male ratio of the room. Castiel’s unblinking stare bored into the side of Dean’s skull and brought the hunter out of his ramblings.

       He turned to the shorter man, leveling his annoyed gaze with the always-observant blue-eyed stare of his friend. “Cas.”

       “Dean?”

       “Remember what I said about staring.”

       “No, I remember something about personal space. Which I still don’t understand--how does one monopolize a specific portion of the atmosphere--”

       “Okay, okay,” shaking his head, Dean took another swig of the thankfully familiar beer. “Ease off the staring.” He shoved his elbow into Sam’s side. “That goes for you too.”

       “Ow! Dean!”

       “Who are you staring at?”

       “Uh, Sherlock Holmes I think is his name.” He inclined his head toward the tall brooding man. “He just looks lonely.”

       “No, we can’t make friends here, Sammy. We don’t have a good streak with keeping them alive.”

       “These people are geniuses and superheroes, Dean. I don’t think we need to look after them quite like our other friends.”

       Dean scoffed and drained the last of the amber liquor in his on bottle. “Wait till they hear it was us who started the apocalypse. We’ll see just who is left in the end for us to be friends with.” He scowled.

       Castiel touched both brothers’ shoulders firmly, “If it’s any consolation, it’s really neither of your faults. Heaven would have made it happen with or without your cooperation.”

       “Sure doesn’t feel that way.”

       “Hey!” Sam called out, “Sherlock!” He held up a beer in place of a question.

       Sherlock sighed. He really didn’t want to socialize with any of these men. The little John inside his head reminded him he was going to be spending an undetermined amount of time with these people. This was the End of the World, it was probably going to take some time. The little John in his head urged him to take a chance and talk to the Winchesters…and their companion.

       Castiel. This was an interesting man. With a small nod, Sherlock answered Sam’s silent question and moved over to join them.

       Sherlock took the unopened beer bottle from Sam’s hand and with a swift turn of his wrist, uncapped the bottle and let the small metal disc clink to the floor. Dean nodded in approval and opened another for himself in much the same fashion.

       “I didn’t take you for a beer guy,” Dean said. He looked over the suit-wearing detective curiously.

       “Usually under disguise, John and I have to “get loose” and drink a few to blend in. John prefers light beer or scotch. You, I can tell, drink a lot. More than your brother, usually of a lower quality but you can appreciate a good whiskey or a quality microbrew. Sam prefers dark beer but likes wine as well.” Dean smirked at that and ignored his brother’s side glare. “However your friend here... He is not human.”

       The Winchesters tensed but Castiel regarded the man with curiosity, tilting his head to side. “Yes, how did you know?”

       “You are different. I see you are rather uncomfortable in your body, like it is not your own, and you seem newly acquainted to human society by your mannerisms. I just overheard Dean telling you about personal space, but a man of that,” gestures to Castiel’s vessel, “age should know about personal space to the point of not requiring to spare a thought for it. You had to be told not to stare, in fact you sometimes stare off, like you're focusing on something far away, perhaps you are really feeling the area. You three both seem uncomfortable in this city scape. You’re used to the country and traveling. The way Dean always stands between Sam and present company implicates that not only in hostile situations but in everyday life you feel the need to protect him. You seem much more like a father protecting his child than an older brother. Your family is broken--”

       “Hey--!”

       “Dean.” Sam put his arm in front of his older brother. Dean sat fully back on his stool again, still leveling a guarded glare at the detective.

       “You are a gifted man.” Castiel was awed by Sherlock’s deduction skills, and took a step forward. “I’m pleased to know you are working to stop criminals rather than using your skills against your fellow humans.” The taller man was obviously surprised by the praise.

       “It’s much more fun solving puzzles than creating them. What are you?”

       “I am Castiel, an Angel of the Lord. This appearance is just my vessel.”

       Sherlock’s eyebrows rose and he gave Castiel a disbelieving smirk. “Really. An angel. Wings, halo, and all?”

       “I don’t know about the halo bit, but I’ve seen his wings.” Dean took a swig of his beer as Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Castiel in thought. “And I’ve seen him smite people. I didn’t believe it either at first, but he really is an angel.”

       “...It is not impossible for angels to exist, and if the Apocalypse is truly happening, that lends more credibility to Biblical folklore.” Sherlock pressed his hands together in front of his lips, gazing at Castiel thoughtfully. Dean almost thought he was praying, but it turned out he was mulling new questions in his head. “What is your wingspan? You will likely not show anyone you do not explicitly trust your actual wings, as they would be too vulnerable to injury if revealed, so I will not ask you to.”

       “Do you mean my wing span as I am contained within this vessel or my true form? In my true form my wingspan would easily be as long as the Avenger’s tower is high.”

       Sherlock opened his mouth slightly, his brain going into hyperdrive trying to remember classes of angels and any references to their size. Before he could fire off an inquiry, though, Thor came over and clasped Sherlock’s and Castiel’s shoulders. “Who is ready for a drinking contest? I am told you Midgardians do that to commemorate friendship!”

       Dean crossed his arms on the counter, leaning forward on them with a smirk. “Straight up drinking or a game?”

       “I have not played any of your kind’s drinking games, but I believe I could still defeat you lightweight humans in a such a contest,” grinned Thor.

       “I think your demigod metabolism might give you a little bit of an advantage there, buddy. Cas could probably take you on, though.”

       “Dean, I don’t like it when you volunteer me for things.”

       “Relax, Cas, I know you can totally win.” He fixed Castiel with a sly smirk. “Or can some pagan god defeat an Angel of the Lord in even as simple a contest as this?”

       Castiel huffed, but sat on the barstool on the opposite side of Dean from Thor. “How is this game played?”

       “Ohhhh, a game!” cried the gangly Doctor, who stopped by their group en route to the soda fountain.

       “Oh this will be even funner. The God, The Angel, and The Time Lord. It’s a drinking game called ‘Quarters’. It’s really quite simple. You’ll each have a cup representing you at the end of this table, and you take turns flicking quarters and trying to bounce them into the other person’s cup. Every time a quarter manages to get into their cup, they take a shot. Basically it’s a game to try to make your opponents get drunker, faster. Usually I play till I stumble down on my ass but that’s up to you guys.”

       “A feat of precision, marksmanship, and friendly competition, I like it,” declared Thor, popping his knuckles in each huge fist, eyes narrowed as he judged the distance between himself and the end of the counter.

       “What do I hear about marksmanship?” Clint came up and rested his elbow on the counter, “I can get behind a game of marksmanship.”

       “John,” Sherlock called out. The blonde man looked up from his circle of new comrades. “Come show these imbeciles a thing or two about marksmanship.” Sherlock’s mouth twitched up, knowing his dear blogger couldn’t resist a good challenge.

       John glanced at those gathered by Sherlock at the bar and rose from his place on the couch to join them. “Well, fellows, I’m going to try my luck at not getting my arse served to me by a couple of ‘higher beings’.”

       “Hey,” Jack lightly smacked John’s arm with the back of his hand. “Perhaps later I could show you my _marksmanship_ skills elsewhere?” A coy light glinted behind his eyes, his eyebrows raised meaningfully.

       “I’m not--,” John glanced at the waiting Sherlock for the briefest of moments, “I’m not interested, sorry.”

       “Ah well, I gave it shot.” Jack laughed at his own joke and winked at the sandy haired man. Smiling gratefully at the understanding old soldier, John stood up and then joined Sherlock where a few others had flocked to join in on the fun as well.

       Give any of these people a gun, or a bow, perhaps a knife, or even a hammer and they could hit their target dead on each and every time. However, giving them a quarter and telling them to flick and bounce it across a table is equal to watching a sugar-crazed three year old trying to play ring toss when the target is 5 feet away. The only ones who could really make a decent shot were surprisingly Castiel and Thor. The angel was very well aware of the power and movement of his vessel and easily found the right amount of force to use after Dean showed him how to angle the quarter. Thor on the other hand found this to be similar to a more kid friendly game he played back in Asgard. They tag-teamed against everyone else. John and Clint were aiming for one anothers cup as well, but not faring as well in their aim, though Coulson was 99.99% positive Clint was losing on purpose, his quarters sailing perfectly between the slim spaces that separated the cups. The Doctor could hardly flick the quarter enough to get it to bounce a reasonable distance. Eventually Castiel and Thor turned on against the other and aimed with pinpoint precision for the other’s glass. They downed shot after shot of their choice of drink.

       Foreseeing his unavoidable loss, the Doctor conceded early and slipped away, once more heading toward the sodas at the end of the bar when a dim glow under the resident Iron Man’s shirt caught his eye. He approached the genius with a spring of curiosity in his step.

       “Now,” the Doctor spun in a circle and stopped gracefully at Tony’s side, “What is that faint glow under your shirt, Mr. Stark?”

       “I thought you knew all about us, Doctor?” chuckled Tony. He slugged back his own shot of liquor and leaned against the bar.

       “I know who you are, and what you do in general but not your precise history.”

       “Too much universal knowledge to hold in that head?” Tony held up a glass. “Want some?”

       Wrinkling his nose at the sharp-smelling liquor, he avoided both questions with silence. Bringing up his hand to accent his next question, the Doctor was cut short when Tony turned his back to the Doctor to fill a fresh row of shot glasses on the bartop in front of him, but with whiskey this time. Nimble on his feet, the Doctor quickly shifted to the other side of Tony. “I’m really interested, mostly for the well-being of yourself, and those present. ‘Cause the last time someone had a glow on their body, it turned out to be a nasty alien parasite, living off their--”

       Tony laughs. “It’s not an alien parasite; I can guarantee you that.”

       “How? How can you be sure, absolutely positively--”

       “Because I put it there myself,” stated Tony, catching the Doctor’s eye, effectively silencing his ramblings. The Doctor didn’t break Tony’s gaze, he merely tilted his head a bit and mimicked Tony’s resting stance, leaning on one elbow.

       “Yourself? You willingly put some glowy thing in your chest?”

       “Yes.” Tony raised the glass to his lips, hesitated and dropped his gaze. His glass came to rest on the counter with a thunk. “It protects my heart in more than one way. I call it the Arc Reactor. It’s an energy source, kind of like a mini fusion energy generator--” laughs at the Doctor’s surprise, “It’s completely stable. No radiation, different elements.” At this Tony did sigh and downed a shot. A familiar world-weary look settled over the Avenger’s face. The Doctor looked around the room once before looking at Tony again to continue. “It not only powers my suit, but the electromagnet that keeps pieces of shrapnel from damaging my heart.”

       “Brilliant. Though, I don’t think I want to know why there is shrapnel in your chest cavity.” He frowned. Tony laughed and nodded in agreement. “Can I take a look, if you don’t mind. That has to be one beautiful piece of technology. Oh, don’t worry,” he said, seeing Tony’s unease as he pulled his sonic screwdriver out from an inner pocket of his long coat. “I’ll just give your Arc Reactor a little scan, nothing too probing or potentially problematic."

       “A scan? Really?” the genius raised an eyebrow.

       “Oh please, if you think I’ll steal your designs, have no fear. I have no need for any of your technology, advanced as it may be for humans. I just want to understand-- this.” He gestured excitedly to the faint glow from Tony’s chest. "It's absolutely fascinating.”

       Tony eyed the Doctor skeptically. “Alright, well, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

      “ _Sorry?_ ”

       Tony pointed at the Doctor’s screwdriver. “I’ll show you the reactor but only if I can look at your Sonic doohickey.”

       "Oh, well, yes, I suppose that would be fair...” The Doctor looked between his sonic screwdriver and Tony apprehensively before nodding once, his eyebrows drawn down a bit. “Yes, alright. You first?

       Tony smirked, “Deal.” Pushing away from the bar counter, he tugged the bottom of his shirt up.

       The Doctor’s smile turned to confusion. “Whoa!” He exclaimed and looked away from Tony, bringing his hands up and looking around. He loudly whispered “What are you doing?”

       “Stripping. Goodness, who knew the ancient Time Lord was a virgin.”

       “I am not--finishing that sentence.” He ended slowly. Tony just laughed, tossing his shirt aside. “There are people around!”

       “Yes, and?”

       The Doctor blew out all the air in his lungs, slumping slightly. “I know who the promiscuous one is in your group.” He muttered under his breath. His eyes caught the exposed arc reactor and the light drew him in like a moth.

       “What was that, beanstalk? Like what you see?” mused Stark.

       “Shush.” The Doctor’s curiosity grew stronger the longer he eyed the Arc Reactor that rested in the center of Tony’s chest. Leaning in closer, he started to change the setting on his sonic screwdriver, his eyes never leaving the soft blue light. “Does it hurt?”

       “No, not anymore.”

       “Anymore?” Tony could feel the breath of the word on his exposed torso.

       “I kind of got palladium poisoning. That was the first element I used in my original arc reactor. Now it’s replaced, and I haven’t had issues with this one. Hey--” the Doctor retracted his hand that had been tracing the edges of the arc. “I thought you said just a scan!”

       “Hmm? Oh, yes.” The Doctor abruptly stood up and stepped back to a more acceptable range. “Right, sorry. That is a marvel right there in your chest, Mr. Stark.” With a final adjustment to his sonic’s setting, he moved in closer once more. He brought the glowing tip to the rim of the reactor and paused when he noticed Tony stiffen. He flicked the sonic screwdriver around the edge of the reactor and snapped it up to his own face for examination of the analysis.

       The Doctor looked up to ask Tony a question and saw him trembling, grasping the bar counter. His face was pale and his eyes were wide, nearly bulging. The trembles quickly turned into shakes, running up and down the man’s body. His breath escaped him in a shuddering, painful sounding gasp. This gained attention from Tony’s teammates almost instantly. Tony thrashed, lost grip of the bar counter, and fell to the ground in a fit.

       “Tony?!” Steve ran over from overseeing Thor and Cas’ drinking escapade and cradled Tony’s head, attempting to prevent brain damage. Seconds after Steve had stilled Tony's head, the genius went completely limp, previously flailing limbs dropping to the floor. John and Bruce were running to aid the unconscious man, a frayed medical bag slung over Bruce’s shoulder. A distinctive click resounded in the new found silence and a gun pressed to the back of the Doctor’s head. He raised his hands up slowly.

       “What did you do?” hissed the Russian spy.

       “I--I just scanned his arc reactor! I swear! I don’t know what happened to Tony! He shouldn’t have had a reaction, it was just a five dimensional scan!”

       “Natasha,” Bruce said in his warning voice; he sounded strained and looked rather green around the gills. “I can’t predict what the other guy will do if he hears gunshots right now.” Both doctors were checking Tony’s vitals and the rest of the room’s activities and conversations had ceased. “Please, put the gun down. I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety if you don’t.”

       “His pulse,” interrupted a confused John, “Seems--”

       “Normal?” spoke a voice from below. The surrounding company looked down to where Tony Stark was lying awake and grinning like they had all fallen for an elaborate joke on national television. His face looked normal again, not a hint of strain on it. “I was acting. Didn’t think it’d stir up such ruckus.” He winked at Bruce, who proceeded to slump back against the bottom of the bar and repeatedly bang his head against it.

       “ _Tony_.” Bruce breathed out, raking his hands over his face.

       “See? Fine! He’s fine! I didn’t do anything,” exclaimed the Doctor.

       “He really didn’t, Tash. Sorry for the worry.” Tony grinned back at her. Her glare caused him to visibly flinch. Clint shot a glance back at Tony before following Natasha as she stalked off toward the elevator. Steve held Tony’s head a bit more firmly for a moment before he finally let go with a restrained huff. He refused to look at Tony when the shorter man apologized to him.

       “It’s not funny, Tony,” snapped Steve. “Don’t ever joke about something like that again.”

       “Aw, come on, Cap, it was just a joke.” Tony whined. Steve’s knuckles creaked as he clenched his fists.

       “It was not a very good one,” was his clipped, forcibly calm response. A glance down at Tony had Steve tightening his jaw as well and he headed for the stairs, his destination the gym where he could work off his worry and frustration. “Your health and safety should not be a laughing matter, here or in a battle.” It was muttered to himself, and those that had hearing sharp enough to catch it were either too focused on getting each other completely smashed or chose to keep quiet. The bang of the door behind him was like the final say in the matter.

       “Sheesh, our Star-Spangled Man sure has his stripes twisted up in a knot,” Tony quipped as he stretched like a cat on the floor.

       “He’s right though, Tony,” came the soft voice of Dr. Banner, still finding his zen against the bar wall, “you shouldn’t make us worry like that for shits and giggles. We honestly thought the Doctor had hurt you, and upsetting delicate team dynamics is not good for the...other guy, or me for that matter.”

       “Well, that--” John grunted as he stood up, “was enough excitement for me today. It’s late. I’m retiring for the evening.” Joints popped as the old soldier straightened and stretched his back. “Goodnight all.” Sherlock was almost instantly by his side and the pair walked out.

       “Me too.” Rose yawned as she stood from her spot. She gently took the Doctor’s hand in her own and led him away from the tense group.

       Dean had Cas propped up, one of the angel’s arms slung around his shoulders. “I have a drunken angel to put to bed. Sammy.” Automatically, the younger Winchester came over to support the other side of Castiel.

       “I can fly to bed,” Castiel insisted, a slur the only audible indication of his intoxication.

       “Negative, ghost rider, flight pattern is cancelled, you are officially grounded. We don’t want you halfway inside walls or something.” They led him away, Castiel mumbling something about references to things he didn’t understand. After muttering half-hearted goodnights, everyone wandered to the elevator to head to their respective rooms. Tony stayed on the ground until Bruce stood and offered him a hand. Grunting, Tony pulled himself up and was assaulted with a face full of his t-shirt.

       “Seriously, Tony, must you push buttons?”

       “I’m the master of button pushing, Bruce.” He pulled the shirt off his face.

       “You came far too close today with me and I think you went too far according to Steve.”

       “He needs to loosen up.”

       “Tony,” Bruce intoned reproachfully.

       Tony looked down at his shirt for a moment, before hastily putting it on. “I’m gonna work in the lab tonight. Care to join?”

       “We’ll probably have a briefing tomorrow morning. I’m going to bed. You should too.”

       “Yeah, I probably should.”

       “...but you won’t. Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

       Tony flashed Bruce his trademarked megawatt smile. “You know me well enough by now, Brucey. Sleep is for normal people.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> Finally, everyone has arrived at Avengers Tower and the end-of-the-world party can commence!
> 
> NOTE: due to Real Life issues (coughFINALScough) we were unable to complete all we had planned for this chapter. We will continue writing and post the remainder of it next week on the regularly scheduled day of Wednesday. Sorry for the delay.
> 
> *EDIT* FINALLY FINISHED AND UPDATED


	12. Come and Play

       Lucifer stood on top of their building, watching the city transition from day to night. The city that never sleeps, they called it. He smiled to himself at the thought. It made New York a fitting place to begin his crusade—waking nightmares were all the more inescapable.

       The sun was just disappearing below the horizon and Lucifer watched it creep lower and lower, leaving Stark Tower glowing like a beacon over the city. Tonight was the night. Tonight, everyone would know just who they were up against. Tonight, they would strike fear into the hearts of millions. Tonight, the Apocalypse began.

* * *

       Loki shed his Asgardian armor and traded it for something less conspicuous. The suit was expensive, made of fine material and fit him rather well but somehow it didn’t sit right. He assumed that wearing Midgardian clothes would be liberating but somehow the absence of all the leather and metal was uncomfortable.

       With his new outfit on, he walked out into the living room where Moriarty was already waiting, dressed similarly. He was sitting on the couch, drinking a cup of tea and didn’t look up when Loki came in. Ever since they met, the tension had stretched tighter between them. It was almost childish the way they treated each other over the last few days. Loki would play his tricks and in return Moriarty would mess with his mind and they fought back and forth, trying to gain the upper hand.

       Lucifer mainly stayed locked in his study or perched on the roof, deep in thought so he rarely interfered in Loki and Moriarty’s disputes.

       Loki eyed Moriarty carefully, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. Neither of them said a word; Moriarty sipped his tea and Loki watched him suspiciously.

       “Don’t stare too long,” Moriarty said, setting his cup down on the saucer. “You might give me the wrong impression.” He finally turned his gaze on Loki, his deep brown eyes glinting with a spark of madness. Loki pursed his lips but kept himself from looking away, not willing to let Moriarty win out so easily.

       “Whatever impression I give must be interpreted by you. If that’s the first conclusion you draw, I’d say that speaks more to your character than mine.”

       “That’s assuming the impression—”

       The door to the study swung open and Lucifer strode in, interrupting Moriarty. “I think we’re going to skip the clever chit chat this evening, boys. We have an awfully big night ahead of us.” He adjusted the cuff link of his suit and smiled another one his haunting smiles. “Shall we make our debut?”

* * *

       The three of them stood outside the entrance of Stark Tower, necks craned back trying to see the top. Other people brushed past them, some going in and some going out of the building but all of them in hurry. The rush of New York streets clamored behind them, every passerby unaware of exactly who it was they were shoving past.

       “Are we ready, then?” he asked, looking from Loki to Moriarty and then back up at the tower.

       Loki nodded but Moriarty only shrugged. “I’m certainly prepared. It’s him I’m worried about.” He jabbed a thumb at Loki. “Last time you were here things didn’t exactly pan out for you, did they?”

       Loki bristled but Lucifer held his hands out to quiet them both. “You have exactly fifteen minutes. I suggest you be ready when the time comes.” He disappeared with the soft whistle of wings, every person on the street too immersed in their own business to bat an eyelash at the spectacle.

       Moriarty and Loki glanced at each other before walking through the double doors and into Stark Tower. The main lobby was mildly busy; there were a couple receptionists on duty and a steady flow of employees filing through, going about their business as usual.

       “Best of luck, mate,” Moriarty said, flashing Loki a smile before continuing on his way. Loki gritted his teeth and watched him walk past the front desk toward the elevators. He bumped into a security guard, apologizing profusely as he pocketed the officer’s key card.

       Loki turned away and inspected the lobby. Of course, with Stark, everything was lavish. The building was decorated smartly and the whole thing breathed efficiency. The room had a cavernous ceiling, extending into two floors with a massive chandelier hanging from the center providing an elegant ambience to the lobby. Loki identified the camera nestled in the corner and looked back and forth from it to the room, estimating its scope.

       His fingers tingled with prospect of using magic and he stuck them in his pockets in case anyone happened to be paying attention. He took a seat in one of the chairs in the waiting area and checked the time. Nine minutes left.

* * *

       Moriarty rocked on his heels as he waited for the elevator to arrive, humming the Bee Gees. When the doors opened he stepped inside and pressed Floor 88. A ping sounded, requesting clearance to reach the top floors. He swiped the card he’d just stolen and the elevator began to rise.

       The doors slid open, revealing an expansive laboratory filled with pieces of unfinished inventions and broken equipment. A hum of electronics buzzed in the room, and bits of technology whirred. Moriarty picked out the location of the security camera almost immediately, before turning his attention the frazzled young man approaching him from across the room. He was alone in the workshop, probably an intern finishing up some odd jobs before going home for the night.

       “Sir? I-I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here. I d—”

       Moriarty held up his hand, showing him the security clearance card, and cut the intern off. “I’m guessing you didn’t get the memo.”

       A look of horror crossed the man’s face, his eyes flicking back and forth trying to remember when or where he might have misplaced such a thing. “Um, no sir, I don’t think I did.”

       “That’s alright,” Moriarty said, patting his shoulder. “I just need to see a couple of things and I’ll be on my way, no harm done.”

       The man nodded, heaving a sigh of relief. “What is it you need to look at?”

       “Just a few blueprints if you don’t mind.”

       The intern dipped his head, turning around to lead Moriarty back to a cabinet full of rolled up papers. Moriarty quirked a devious smile at the camera before following the young man back to the cabinets. He pushed his sleeve back to look at his watch. Four minutes to go.

* * *

       Lucifer appeared in a hallway below ground, several levels below the main lobby. No one was there, not even a security team. Apparently, they figured anybody who had made it this far down either belonged there or would have been turned away already. Lucifer walked down the empty hall toward the solitary door at the end.

       It was unlocked, not that it would have mattered either way, so Lucifer walked right in. The computer mainframe lined the walls, little blinking lights penetrating the dark room.

       Lucifer raised a finger. “Now, before you set off any alarms, I’d like a few words. JARVIS, isn’t it?”

       There was silence for a moment. “Yes.”

       Lucifer smiled. “Nice to meet you, JARVIS. My name is Lucifer and I would very much like to meet your boss. Do you mind pulling up the security footage for him? I have a feeling he’d like to see this.”

* * *

       “So what did you do?” Dean asked, taking a swig of his beer, looking to Tony to finish his story. The team of allies was gathered around the table for dinner. Even those like Sherlock and Castiel who didn’t really see the point in eating had found it in themselves to sit in on the occasion for the sake of solidarity. Everyone was still getting to know each other but most of them had fallen into an easy banter.

       Dean found himself enjoying the company of some of the others, despite his earlier reservations about joining a team. They had only been there a couple of days so he wasn’t sure he could quite label anyone ‘friends’ yet but he felt like it was on its way. He knew his and Sam’s track record for friendships was very sparse and marred by tragedy but this felt like an exception. He felt comfortable here. The weight of everything wasn’t solely placed on his shoulders and even after only a few nights, some of the exhaustion had lifted.

       “Well, I kicked the little bastard down the stairs, of course. What choice did I have?” The majority of the table laughed uproariously, Tony’s story even drawing smiles from the stony faced Natasha and ever serious Castiel. Everyone took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to eat more of their dinner before someone else branched into another anecdote.

       “Sir?” JARVIS’s voice sounded from above them.

       “Yeah?” Tony replied around a mouthful of steak.

       JARVIS’s voice was hesitant and guarded. “There’s someone in the mainframe room. He says he’d like to talk to you.”

       Tony wiped his mouth with his napkin. “What? How’d he get down there?”

       “I…don’t know, sir. He’s asked me to pull up the surveillance feed for you.” The table was very quiet, not even the clanking of silverware broke the silence; they all waited on the edge of their seats for whatever the mysterious stranger had for them to view.

       “Well, go ahead, then,” Tony said, keeping the nerves out of his voice. JARVIS pulled up several screens in the middle of the table, various rooms of Stark Tower on display. Tony’s eyes darted around until he spotted the computer mainframe footage.

       A man in a suit stood by himself in the middle of the room, his hands clasped loosely in front him, looking like he all the time in the world. JARVIS turned on the audio and they could hear the hum of the computer banks before the man spoke. “Hello, there. I’m assuming JARVIS has done what I’ve asked and that I’m speaking to Tony Stark and Co. I would introduce myself but I have the feeling some of you already know who I am. That’s right, Sam. Dean. I see you’ve enlisted a little help,” the man said, grinning up at them.

       Sam and Dean tensed. “Lucifer,” Sam hissed, clenching a fist. Heads whipped toward him and questions flew from all sides of the table.

       “Lucifer? You mean like…Lucifer, Lucifer? As in the Devil?” Jack asked, incredulously, his eyes wide.

       “I told you this would be Revelations, Jack. Who did you think would be leading the charge?” the Doctor said quietly, a finger on his lips as he watched the scene in the mainframe room unfold. They all quieted down as Lucifer continued to speak.

       “Unfortunately for you, I’ve made a few friends as well. Take a look around, you might recognize a few faces,” he said, pacing back and forth in front of the camera as he spoke to his invisible audience.

       The allies looked at each other trying to figure out what Lucifer meant. They all scanned the security footage, looking for anyone out of the ordinary but John spotted it first.

       “No. No, it can’t be. Sherlock, is that…” He trailed off, unable to form the word. Sherlock had paled and John saw his body go rigid. The others looked at the pair of them, wondering what drew such a reaction. Sherlock’s jaw clenched as he watched Jim Moriarty wink at the camera and walk away as if he hadn’t shot himself through the head all those years ago.

       “That’s--he’s in one of the restricted access labs,” stuttered Bruce, following John and Sherlock’s eyes.

       “Now, I know what you’re thinking,” Lucifer continued, drawing the attention back to him. “‘Why, you’ve just offered yourself up on a plate for us. You’ve walked straight into our base.’ True, but tonight we’ve only come to offer an invitation and let you know that this?” He gestured around him. “This is only the beginning.” An intense bright, light bloomed from Lucifer’s hands, enveloping him on the screen before everything went black. The entire tower shut down. The allies were still quiet, digesting what happened, no one daring to breathe in the crushing silence that followed.

* * *

       Lucifer hadn’t completely destroyed the system; after all, for the effect to work, he was relying on JARVIS being able to recover power. But the blackout gave them time to act and Lucifer didn’t waste time. He approached the camera and reached up to touch it. Ice radiated from his fingertips and he froze over the lens. He wrote in his message before teleporting away.

* * *

       As soon as the lights went off, Loki sprang into action. He leapt from his seat and let loose the pent up energy in his hands. People screamed and panicked, ducking behind desks and cowering low on the ground. The green light burning from Loki’s hands cast an eerie glow over the lobby, illuminating his eager grin. He directed the beam at the floor, felt the power rushing through him, and did as Lucifer asked. He had just finished and quelled the stream of magic when he felt a hand on his arm and was taken away.

* * *

       Moriarty trailed after the intern who knelt down by the stock of blueprints, muttering about organization and a better filing system.

       Moriarty checked his watch again, only a few more seconds. He reached behind him and pulled the gun out of the back of his pants and held it at his side, waiting for the right moment.

       “So which plans did you need to look at?”

       “I think I’ll handle it myself, thanks very much.” The power died and Moriarty lifted the gun, emptying the clip into the unfortunate young man. He tossed the gun away and dragged the body over to the corner. Pulling a chair over, he dipped his finger into the pool of blood surrounding the corpse and stepped up on to the chair, spelling out his assignment on the wall. When he was done, he hopped off the chair and wiped his hand on a stray cloth before finding his way back to the blueprints and scooping up as much as he could carry. He felt the hand on his shoulder and the room fell away.

* * *

       “JARVIS?” Tony asked, standing up from the table and hurrying over to a port on the far wall. No one else moved. Tony pressed some buttons but it did no good. “Come on, JARVIS, talk to me.” He pulled out one of the smaller tablets from his pocket and scrolled through it frantically.

       After several minutes of scrambling, the Tower hummed back to life. The lights flickered back on and JARVIS’s voice came from overhead once again. “We’re back online, sir.”

       Tony didn’t acknowledge him. Everyone was focused on the surveillance feed that had reappeared over the table. Even among the hundreds of cameras in Stark Tower, the words stood out. It was short but the message was clear. Etched in ice, scorched onto the floor, and smeared in blood: COME AND PLAY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's finally some more action from earth's resident bad guys. We'll more than likely end up updating every other week as college has started up once more.
> 
> EDIT: fixed some typos and a few formatting issues.


	13. In the Wake of a Calamity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're having issues with formatting at the moment, sorry any inconvenience.

       A haunted stillness draped itself over the room, weighing heavily on each person. All eyes were fixed to the holographic screen above the table. Moments passed and no one dared to break the silence, or were simply too wrapped up in their inner battles to pay heed to the others around them. The quiet reigned on until the large dull thunk of a bird hitting the window unleashed a tsunami of rising emotions, shouts, and curses.

       Bruce abruptly stood, straining out a polite “Excuse me” and left, a green tinge spreading across his face too quickly for anyone’s safety. Not that anyone heard the man, as most of the others in the room were shouting over each other while they attempted to figure out what exactly had just happened. Tony immediately pulled out his phone, making calls to maintenance personnel and crowd control, fingers flying over a tablet.

       John didn’t hesitate to wrap his hand in a vice-like grip around Sherlock’s wrist. Moriarty. Jim Moriarty was alive, and up to absolutely no good, the end of the word in fact! John giggled a bit hysterically, his eyes never leaving the screen. The blood dripping down the side of the stark white lab walls reminded him too much of the blood oozing over Sherlock’s own pale and blank face, all those years ago. John had to reassure himself Sherlock was still by his side, he wasn’t a runaway, but more importantly he wasn't dead. The consulting detective twisted his wrist and gripped John’s hand back, his hold equally as abiding. Sherlock swiveled John’s chair towards him, breaking John’s line of vision to the security feeds and interrupting his train of thought. He, too, had an unnatural pallor to his face. Using his unoccupied hand, Sherlock guided John’s face to make him look him in the eye.

       “John. I am okay, you are okay. His web. Every. Last. Strand. I destroyed them all, crippled beyond threat. He has no power.” Sherlock tried to reassure John, but John just shook his head.

       “We, we ca--we can’t do this again, Sherlock.”

       “Yes, we can.” The detective sounded pained, looking for something in John’s eyes. “I can’t face him alone this time.”

       With a flare of his nostrils and a sharp intake of breath, John straightened up, his demeanor hardening and eyes flashing dangerously. “Like hell I’m letting you face that bastard alone again. No, not this time. I won’t be able to survive another one of your deaths.”

       Sherlock smiled, “And I’d be lost without my blogger.”

       “Tony,” Steve started, “what the hell just happened.”

       “Seriously, Stark,” Romanoff clipped. “How did they get in?”

       “I don’t care how they got in,” Clint interjected, crossing his arms. “I want to know where they are now.”

       “I’m working on it,” droned the distracted Tony. His fingers were tapping away at the tablet’s keyboard.

       Thor was studying the screen that showed the lobby message closely, his brow furrowed in thought. “JARVIS, who burnt the missive on the floor of the entryway?”

       JARVIS hesitated. The Avengers froze and slowly looked up, not liking when JARVIS didn’t immediately share things with them. The last time JARVIS had hesitated, Lucifer had been in the building.

       “JARVIS, who was it?” Tony demanded.

       If an AI could sound regretful, that’s what JARVIS’s tone would be. “It was Loki, sir.”

       The Winchesters were murmuring to each other, their heated whispers the only thing that kept the room from falling to silence once more. Thor’s knuckles creaked loudly. He suddenly slammed his fist onto the table, making dishes bounce up and almost everyone jump. He quivered, tense, with sparks arcing between the strands of his hair.

       “No. It could not have been Loki. Not the Loki I know. That Loki is trapped in a cave on Asgard.”

       Dean looked up at the name, breaking off from his conversation with Sam to ask, "Loki? Loki like that douchebag that attacked New York a few years ago?"

       Thor whipped around, his hair crackling as it moved, eyes blazing. The sky outside grew heavy with dark clouds and rumbled with distant thunder. “He is my brother, and I will not have you speaking ill of him!!”

       Dean held up his hands in easy surrender, eyes wide. “Easy, big fella.” He turned his head to Sam and muttered, “And I thought our family was messed up.”

       Thor’s fingers twitched like he wanted to call Mjolnir from his room, then tightened into fists like he instead wished to punch Dean through a wall. Natasha was in front of him in the space of a moment, all fluid grace and calming murmurs. Gradually, his hands loosened and she subtly guided him away from the screens, enlisting him to help her make tea. She knew he needed something to do with his hands, so she sent him to find mugs for everyone while she boiled the water.

       “Thor,” the superspy said. Handing her the cups, Thor looked over to see a rare gentle expression set on the redhead’s face. It was neither pitying nor sympathetic, just the softer side of Natasha, their friend.

       “Natasha.” His voice rumbled in weariness.

       “You love your brother, and there is nothing wrong with that.” She paused, making sure the god was listening. “The one you know to be, he may still be in there. But you have to focus on what he is doing right now.” She placed a hand on his forearm, and he relaxed the fist that he had made. “It’s hard for us all to see you torn up about Loki, maybe you can reach the brother that you know again one day. Maybe not in any of our mortal lifetimes, but one day. Today, he’s made clear what side he is on and in this battle, he’s not on yours.”

       The kettle whistled and the spy poured the perfect portion of boiling water into each mug Thor had set before her. Tea bags were added and it wasn’t long until the curling steam brought wafts of warm, soothing, herbal scents. Once the tea had steeped, she delivered each cup to the people around the room, leaving Thor to his thoughts. John and Sherlock near-instantly relaxed once they had a warm mug in their hands, though they maintained contact with each other even as they drank. Dean wrinkled his nose at the earthy smelling drink, but Sam took a cup gratefully. Castiel gazed into the dark liquid curiously.

       The Doctor looked around the room with the eagerness of an excited puppy. He seemed energized by the tension that hung thick in the air.

       “This is so exciting!” the Doctor exclaimed before he took a sip of his own tea. Rose gave him a not-so-subtle elbow jab to his ribs, nearly making him spill his tea. When he gave her a baffled look, she jerked her head meaningfully to the side of the room where most of the others were. Clint was seething, staring out one of the window-walls, an arrowhead rolling back and forth between his fingers. Thor was seated at the table, his head hanging down as he took deep, steady breaths, his back expanding upward like the swell of a wave. Sherlock and John sat close together, one hand gripping the other tightly as if they would lose their way without the contact, obviously deeply shaken by the news. The Doctor blinked and gave Rose a sheepish smile, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, yes, well…there is that. That’s not good, of course…” He took another sip of his tea and turned his eyes to the corner where Tony and Steve were arguing. They were bickering back and forth but neither of them seemed to be upset; they were likely trying to keep the room from lapsing into an uncomfortable silence, arguing more for the sake of having something to do rather than fueling a fire.

       Coulson had remained calm through the whole event, merely sighing and muttering something about “more paperwork” as he began compiling and recording what had happened in a new file, speaking lowly to JARVIS for additional data.

       Coulson paused in his data gathering and pulled out his buzzing phone. “Oh,” was all he said before standing and straightening his suit. Natasha and Clint took the small cue and were the only ones ready before the elevator dinged. A trademark long black coat flared out around his legs as Director Fury stepped out. He was closely followed by Assistant Director Hill. Tony’s scowl deepened when he saw them.

       “I don’t particularly feel like dealing with your bureaucratic bullshit tonight, Director,” Tony sneered, pointing a finger at the elevator, “If you would be so kind as to get out of my tower. How does this concern you anyway?”

       “Any security breach to the Avengers Tower is reported to S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Maria answered coolly. “It was our business as soon as they walked in the door.”  
Tony scowled but said nothing more, muttering darkly under his breath as he continued his in-depth search of the Tower’s coding, looking for any nasty surprises that may have been left there.

       Steve saw the confused and curious expressions on their newer teammates’ faces, as well as the not quite annoyed but rather not happy expression on the Doctor’s face. He cleared his throat to catch the attention of the room at large.

       “For those of us who joined us through more...unusual channels, this is Director Fury, head of S.H.I.E.L.D.--”

       “I didn’t come here to make friends, Rogers. We have business to attend to and I suggest we get to it.” Fury’s tone was clipped and he sounded like the last place he wanted to be was there.

       From the moment the director had walked in, Sherlock had begun taking mental notes about their apparent overseer. To most people, Fury looked overbearing and severe, and he was. But even a face as impassive as his told Sherlock many things. When he walked in the room, Sherlock could almost feel the authority come in with him. He felt John’s hand twitch next to his arm as if he meant to salute but thought better of it. Instead, John gave a curt nod and greeted the director with strict formality.

       Sam copied the gesture but Dean was busy muttering something to Castiel and barely acknowledged the director’s entrance.

       “Damage report!” Director Fury barked out, his eye fixed on Stark who continued scrolling through his tablet.

       "No major damage to JARVIS or the main computer system, I've already fixed what little our frosty friend did. There is a team starting repairs on the floor of the lobby which took the most damage, another team is cleaning the blood off the wall of Lab 88, and the camera in the mainframe vault is set to be replaced. One casualty, an intern named Nick Williams whose blood was used for the message, though half a dozen people got injured during the panic from Loki, and a chemist that had been mind controlled by Loki had a PTSD episode. He’s with the shrinks now, for whatever good they'll do--"

       "How did they even get in?" John demanded.

       “Lucifer probably flew in himself.” Sam saw the confused looks the others were giving him. “It’s not flying like you’d think, it’s more like teleporting.”

       “Oh, like Feathers over here does,” Tony gestured at Castiel as his other hand typed. Castiel blinked and looked around.

       “Who is Feathers?”

       Tony swiveled his chair a few inches to look over at the angel, perplexed. When he saw Castiel truly did not understand, he just gave him a little pitying smile and patted his shoulder.

       “Anyway,” Tony continued, “it looks like we’ve got a lot on our plates. So, anyone got a plan of attack?”

       “Does this mean your plan involves more than just ‘attack?’” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at Tony.

       Tony opened his mouth to retaliate but paused and pointed a finger at Steve. “Cheeky, Rogers. But yes, I think we’ll need something a little more elaborate this time around.”

       “And it might help to know what we’re up against,” Jack said, tugging on his suspenders. “I mean, what exactly is this guy bringing to the table?”

       Fury addressed the Winchesters. “You two seem to be the experts on this Lucifer guy. Mind clueing us in?”

       Sam and Dean looked at each other, inviting the other to answer the question. After a brief, silent exchange, Sam spoke up and the others listened with rapt attention.

       “Well, uh...to be honest, we don’t know much beyond the basics. We’ve never actually met him in person until now.”

       “We know plenty about angels and demons,” Dean interrupted. “We’ve been caught in the middle of their Apocalypse for months now but this the prize fight. And you could say it’s a little out of our league.”

       “Sorry, what now? Apocalypse?” Coulson said. “I don’t mean to sound like a broken record but I just want to clarify here. We’re talking about THE Devil and THE Apocalypse, right? The whole Biblical nine yards?”

       “Yeah, that’s the idea,” Dean sighed, leaning back in his chair.

       “Well, don’t you think we should have noticed something by now?” Coulson continued. “What’s the point in having global chaos and destruction if nobody has any idea it’s happening?”

       “I guess you could say they haven’t gone public yet. But all kinds of crap has been going on under the radar and I’m guessing Lucifer’s finally ready to bring it all to the forefront.”

       “And best of all he’s brought some friends,” Fury said snidely, circling the table and gesturing at the surveillance feed still on display.

       “Does anyone else feel like we’re being targeted?” Tony said. “Lucifer has some beef with you two, we’re obviously familiar with Loki, and I’m assuming whoever that is has some history with the good detective.”

       “Or maybe we’re targeting them,” Natasha said. Everyone looked to her for explanation. She uncrossed her arms and pointed at the Doctor. “It depends who was rallied first. Did he choose us to combat them or the other way around?”

       They all turned their attention to the Doctor. He looked a bit affronted.

       “Well, it’s a bit difficult to explain really,” he began, scratching behind his ear. “I chose to recruit you because I knew who Lucifer was going to go after but by choosing you Lucifer then knew who to get on his team which I already knew about but wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t selected you specific people. It gets rather complicated if you look at time as a strict progression of cause and effect. You see, time is--”

       “Doctor,” Rose interrupted upon seeing the confused stares from most of the room, “I think it’s better if we just move on.”

       “Right, well, perhaps so.” He stuck his hands into his jacket pockets, looking somewhat dejected.

       Tony tapped a spoon on the table. “So why don’t you two introduce us to contestant number 3?” he said, gesturing at John and Sherlock.

       The two were silent for a moment until John spoke up. “His name’s Jim Moriarty. We thought he was dead.”

       “Lucifer must have reanimated him,” Castiel said.

       “What’s his story then?” Steve said, ignoring Castiel’s stating of the obvious. “What does Lucifer want him for? He looks...ordinary.”

       “Far from it,” Sherlock supplied, keeping his eyes staring straight ahead, still turning over every detail of the attack in his mind, gleaning every bit of available information.

       “So what is he? Demon? Vamp? Some kind of god?” Dean asked.

       “Oh no, he’s human,” Sherlock said, looking pointedly at Dean. “Don’t mistake the absence of the supernatural as absence of power. His mind is more dangerous than any one of your creatures.”

       The room fell silent again.

       “So how do we defend ourselves, then?” Steve asked, directing the question at no one in particular. The brothers glanced at each other, then Dean leaned forward with his hands clasped and his forearms resting on the table.

       “I don’t know about Megamind, but I do know my creatures and my lore. We know of wards that will keep them out,” he explained, “but we’re going to need supplies...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update. We've all returned to college and it's been hectic, not to mention this chapter has been a stubborn butt to write.  
> We'll most likely update every other week. If you don't hear from us for awhile, do not despair! We assure you all we are continuing to work on this. Working 5 fandoms together isn't the easiest thing, but we've got this.  
> Enjoy!  
> \--Cheekbones


	14. The Master Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve been getting many comments about how people want the characters in the fandoms to start branching out more and interacting with others. Yes, we will do this. They’ve only just gotten settled down in the tower. Do not fear. Also, we haven’t forgotten about the Master, he was a part of our plan from the very beginning :) So here is an extra chapter to soothe your anxiety. 
> 
> Enjoy! --InkwellWarriors

       For a split second, Loki felt the breath rush out of him and the ground fall away before the sensation evaporated and he found himself in a completely different location. Lucifer let go of their shoulders and Loki and Moriarty stumbled back, dazed from the teleportation.

       Loki looked around; they weren’t back in the loft. He didn’t recognize where Lucifer had taken them. It was darker, quieter, the sounds of the city could no longer be heard through the window. The room they were in was sparsely decorated, mostly made of wood. Threadbare curtains hung over the windows letting in the first hints of moonlight.

       Moriarty whistled, tossing his armful of blueprints off to the side. “Well, it certainly beats traffic.” Lucifer rolled his eyes, going over to gather up the scattered papers and place them neatly on a desk in the corner.

       Loki walked over to the curtains, pulling one back to look outside. “Where are we?”

       Lucifer made sure the stack of plans was stable before joining Loki by the window and peering out over the landscape. The house was situated in small clearing but beyond them looked to be miles and miles of forest.

       “Close to Casper, Wyoming. Not far from Devil’s Gate.” He smiled. “I thought it was a little poetic.”

       “So, this is the plan, then?” Moriarty said, collapsing into the chair at the desk. “We make our flashy entrance and then sit back and watch them scramble?”

       Lucifer stepped away from the window and paced the perimeter of the room until he found the light switch and flipped it on. The single light bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered and did little to illuminate the dark room. “For now, yes. That is the plan. They weren’t expecting us this time but now we have lost the element of surprise. Of course, we didn’t sacrifice that without gaining anything but it does leave us with some disadvantages as well.”

       “Such as?” Moriarty drawled, twisting back and forth in his chair.

       Lucifer set his jaw. “Well, Jim, it might only take a few men on the inside to get things done for you,” he paused to look Moriarty directly in the eyes, “but being me does have its limitations. Now that they have the Winchesters you can guarantee that Stark is going to do everything he can to make that tower as inaccessible to me as possible. That’s why it was important you got those,” he pointed at the blueprints, “now before Sam and Dean can paint every ward they know on that building.”

       “What are they, anyway?” Loki asked, approaching the desk for a closer look. He selected one at random and rolled it open. The design didn’t make much sense to him but it reminded him vaguely of Selvig’s work.

       “They’re not of much use at the moment but once the fourth member of our coalition arrives it will be of great importance,” Lucifer said. Loki rolled up the blueprint again and put it back on the desk.

       “Speaking of which,” Moriarty said, “do we know anything else about this mysterious fourth member? How long are we going to sit around here moping about being one suit short of full deck?”

       Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “If you want to go in half-cocked be my guest but I’m waiting until all of my cards are on the table.”

       Moriarty quirked his eyebrows and shrugged, pulling out a piece of gum from his pocket. The wind picked up outside and rattled the windows. The shadows of the trees being whipped around swayed on the floor of the cabin.

       Loki sat on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms. “Do we know when he’s coming?”

       Lucifer shook his head.

       “But you at least know where he is, don’t you?”

       Lucifer shook his head again. “Not exactly. His situation is…complicated. But that’s precisely why we need him.”

       Moriarty started counting off on his fingers. “So we don’t know when he’s coming, where he is, and we can’t work whatever machine these plans are referring to until he arrives. Did I miss anything because I want to make sure I know just how lost we are at the moment.”

       “If we don’t know where he is,” Loki said, ignoring Moriarty, “how are we going to get to him?”

       Lucifer raised a finger. “Ah, now that’s where you come in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'd like your opinion!  
> With college starting up again, we’re having trouble finding times to get all three of us together to write. Our posting schedule has been a little erratic and we’re trying to get back to being consistent. So, it looks like we’ve got two option ahead of us.
> 
> 1\. Continue posting every Wednesday only the chapters will be a tad shorter.  
> OR
> 
> 2\. Start posting only every other Wednesday but with longer chapters.  
> Let us know what you think and we’ll figure something out. Thanks for reading! — InkwellWarriors
> 
> comment on this chapter here, vote on our FF account poll, or contact us on Tumblr!
> 
> http://inkwellwarriors.tumblr.com/post/41725724112/wed-like-your-opinion
> 
> http://www.fanfiction.net/u/4338867/#


	15. Going Through the Motions

       “Tony.”

       Tony didn’t even glance up from his phone. They were lounging by the fireplace in the penthouse with a bottle of wine and a free evening. They had planned to spend it relaxing after the stress of the day. A rustle of papers drew Tony’s attention, though, and he saw the worried, confused crease of Pepper’s forehead before he noticed she was holding his supplies lists.

       “Tony, why do we need 500 pounds of rock salt?”

       “You’re right, that’s not enough, is it? Better double it. Or maybe I should just buy a salt flat, how much do those go for these days--”

       “ _Human blood_??? You want to get human blood?” Pepper was getting that tone in her voice that she only got when dealing with Tony or idiotic accountants, the one that meant she would need a strong drink soon.

       “Well, yeah. The Winchesters said that many of the sigils won’t work if they’re not in human blood. I’ve been talking to some local morgues and hospitals for them to give us --well, I’ll pay them for it obviously-- the blood from when they bleed the corpses, they know to keep it quiet cuz that is kinda a weird request even for a billionaire, so Dean or Sam don’t--”

       “TONY!” Tony shut his mouth with a click. Pepper rubbed her temples, taking deep calming breaths. “WHY do you need all this stuff?”

       “Demons. And possibly ghosts. Among other things that go bump in the night.” If Tony didn’t look so serious, Pepper would have laughed.

       “Oh god, you’re serious. Okay, this is about why we have all these new housemates and what happened in the Tower yesterday. The Apocalypse.” She put her forehead in her hands, leaning her elbows on her knees. “I’m still not used to that. To knowing the world could very well end at any moment.”

       “Castiel said we would have at least a few months,” Tony supplied, trying to be helpful and reassuring. The Look Pepper sent him showed he had achieved neither. He sighed and gently held one of Pepper’s hands in one of his, his other arm resting over her shoulders in the semblance of a hug. “The salt will protect us from demons, after we lay it out along the base of the building. We’ll bury it in a rubber tube, so it’s harder for someone to sabotage or for water to wash it away. And Dean and Sam said they’ll put up protections against a whole slew of critters in as much of the Tower as they can without freaking everyone out.” He tipped Pepper’s head toward his, pressing a light kiss to the side of her head. “We’ll all come out on top, just like we always do, Pep. Hero stuff, we’ve got this, we do it every other day.”

       “No, Tony, you don’t! This isn’t just some crazy scientist who was scorned by his peers too many times to care about safety, or or mutated fish eating New Jersey, this is the end of the world! Time travel! Demons! I...” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m not sure I can handle this, Tony.”

       “Hey, hey,” Tony gently peeled her hands away from her face, holding them in his own, “we’ll get through this, just like we’ve gotten through everything else.”

       Pepper glared at him though wet eyes. “Tony, you have almost died nearly ten times in the last year alone. And that was just against the normal villains we face. This is angels and demons and who knows what!”

       “Pepper, our team is full of specialists now, they know how to protect us. We have an angel on our side, don’t forget, as well as Thor and the Hulk. We’ll be fine... Oh, and you should probably make some sort of public announcement about the new up-and-coming local artist whose art will be adorning the walls of the Avengers Tower within the next few days. Keep it vague.”

       “ _Tooony_ …..”

       “It’s important, Pep.” He kissed her and some of the tension melted from her shoulders.

       She sighed, pouring more wine into their glasses. “I don’t doubt it, Tony. I’m just… still coping with all of this new stress.” She squeezed his hand and snuggled into his side. “I’m sure everything will be fine.” She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself more than Tony.

       Tony smiled and kissed the crown of her head, his arm warm over her shoulders, fingers rubbing her upper arm. A few moments of peaceful silence pass.

       “By the way, we’ll be converting your room into a nuclear bunker. For your own protection. I’m sure you understand.”

       “Tony!!”

* * *

 

       “Dean, stop messing with it, you’ll knock it over.”

       “Shut up, Sam. I know what I’m doing.”

       “I really don’t think you do. Why are we putting it up here anyway? Wouldn’t it make more sense down in the lobby or something? Or better yet, nowhere?”

       “It’s called having a backup plan. Now, hold this.”

       “Dean, this is stupid.”

       “No, this is ingenuity at its finest.”

       “Someone’s coming, we should proba—”

       “Good, let’s try it out, come on.”\

       Dean…”

       The brothers moved away from the door frame and pressed themselves against the wall of the lounge. The rest of the team was scattered around the tower, wrapped up in preparations and planning or just getting to know each other, what Coulson called proactive personnel interrelations. Sam and Dean had managed to bow out of the day’s bonding session under Tony’s orders to make the building ‘undemon-y.’

       They’d made sketches of all kinds of supernatural wards, demonic and angelic alike, and handed them over to some of Tony’s employees. Hundreds of them were painted, framed, and hung all around the building under the guise that Stark was promoting some new up-and-coming artist. Of course, no one mentioned that some of them were painted in human blood. Devil’s traps were painted under rugs and put in the doorways of most of the major rooms in the building. Tony spent a lot of money on ingredients for hex bags which the Winchesters and some interns spent hours assembling and scattering around the building, particularly in everyone’s personal quarters.

       Castiel was away investigating any and all leads on Lucifer and the others, keeping his ears open for angel chatter along the way. He was under instructions to use his cellphone if he came across anything noteworthy and to meet in the parking garage since the building was angel proof.

       After all the sigils were in place, Dean insisted on hiding stashes in key points through the tower. Guns, salt rounds, iron, holy water, and more, all placed so Dean was never more than a room away from security.

       His latest stroke of genius was rigging up a trough of holy water above the door to douse any unwanted entrants. It was a contraption almost childish in its conception, just a bucket with a string attached that, when pulled, would topple the bucket over and drench whoever walked in. It was simple, Dean admitted, but he figured one of the science geeks could amp it up later.

       “You don’t even know who’s coming,” Sam whispered.

       “It’s just water, they’ll get over it.”

       As soon as the person’s feet came into view, Dean yanked on the cord and the bucket tipped, sending a cascade of water down on to Natasha Romanoff’s head.  
Sam’s eyebrows shot up and he instinctively took a step backward. Dean froze in place, his eyes wide, bringing a fist to his lips.

       Natasha didn’t move either, just stood there as the water dripped off of her with her hair plastered to her face. Her face remained stoic but her eyes spelled murder.

       Dean chuckled timidly, shuffling his feet. “We were just…uh—”

       “I’ve been sent to inform you that your…expertise is needed in the conference room.” Without another word she turned her back on them and left, trailing water with her as she went.

       Dean let out a breath and faced his brother who was shaking his head. “She is so gonna get you back for that,” Sam said, tightening his jaw.

       “She didn’t look that mad, did she?”

       Sam smiled wryly and patted Dean on the shoulder, brushing past him to make his way to the conference room.

       Dean stood still for another moment, contemplating his fate before following along.

       After returning their gear to their rooms, Sam and Dean took the elevator down to the conference room to find only a small group gathered there. At least one representative of each faction was present and accounted for. Natasha was there, of course; she stood against the wall by the door giving the Winchesters a steely glare as they entered. She had apparently toweled off before they arrived but her hair was still damp. Tony was noticeably absent and in his place at the head of the table was Jack Harkness. His greatcoat was draped over the back of the chair and dragged on the floor as he rocked back and forth. The Doctor had opted to keep his coat on; he was standing at the far end of the table closer to the other door, bouncing on his toes like he was prepared to flee any moment. Dr. Watson was seated comfortably at the middle of the table, his hands clasped in his lap and eyes straight forward. The tower’s third doctor was also present and Dr. Banner stood at the front of the room with his arms crossed. He looked small in comparison to the large figure up on the big screen, a man the Winchesters didn’t recognize.

       Bruce was almost a stranger himself if they were being honest. He spent most of his time in the labs and only emerged for the occasional dinner or PPI session. He tended to avoid interacting with the team as a whole, worried that the combined stress and clashing of egos might trigger an unhealthy reaction. Of all their bunkmates, Banner was the one Sam and Dean felt the least familiar with. Even people like Sherlock, who weren’t exactly personable, at least showed up around the tower even if he was only being dragged along by John.

       Sam and Dean entered when Jack, the Doctor, and the man on screen were in the middle of discussing something about time traveling and the temporal flux that sounded foreign to the brothers. Natasha gave a little cough as they came in and Jack swiveled in his chair to face them.

       “There you are, boys. Take a seat, we’ll get to you in a moment,” he said before turning back to the television.

       “I’m not the expert on time travel here, Doctor,” the man was saying. “But as far as I can tell, the events that have transpired so far haven’t had any measurable adverse effects on the timeline. Of course, our technology only extends so far; your TARDIS would be better suited to picking up more universal interference.”

       The Doctor took his glasses off and stowed them away in an interior pocket. “Until it registers here I wouldn’t worry about it. If they’re tampering with anything, I’ll be the first to know. For now, Rose and I will go take a look at that rip in the vortex. Make sure it’s nothing to fret about.”

       “Don’t step on any butterflies, Doc,” Jack warned, giving the Doctor a salute. The Doctor returned it casually and strolled out of the room.

       Jack propped his feet up on the table and turned his attention back to the Winchesters who had sat down between him and John. “Sam, Dean. This is my associate Ianto Jones. Ianto, meet the Ghostbusters.”

       “Hello.” Ianto gave a little wave as Sam nodded a greeting and Dean gave Jack a look out of the corner of his eye.

       “So…what did you need us for?” Sam asked.

       Bruce took a step forward and adjusted his glasses. “With all the wards and such you’ve put up, we’ve got a good start on defense but so far we’re pretty lacking on the offense. Luckily, they were only toying with us the first time around and we didn’t take any major damage. But Tony wants to strike back.”

       “Which is a problem,” Jack supplied, “because we have no idea where they are.”

       “Y-yes,” Bruce continued after being interrupted. “What we need to know is if there’s any kind of tell-tale signs that might point us in their direction.”

       The brothers shrugged. “Well, sure,” Sam started. “There’s plenty but—”

       “It’s all pretty hit-and-miss. Sometimes a cattle mutilation is attributed to a satanic cult and sometimes it’s just a few hungry coyotes,” Dean cut in, turning his palms up.

       Bruce made a note on a clipboard.

       “I can run an algorithm that can extrapolate patterns of supernatural anomalies,” JARVIS’s voice sounded from above.

       “You can what-a what?” Dean asked, staring up at the ceiling, his expression lost.

       “JARVIS can run a program that picks out certain occurrences. They could be in concentrated areas or happen in a certain order or pattern,” Bruce explained.

       “No kidding. Well, beats doing it by hand, I guess,” Dean said, folding his hands.

       “It’s a rather basic procedure,” JARVIS said.

       Dean mimicked the AI’s tone sarcastically under his breath.

       Sam elbowed his brother. “Well, in that case, it’d probably help to look out for things like electrical storms, sudden drops in temperature…” Bruce wrote down each anomaly as Sam listed them off.

       “That should be enough to give us a head start,” he said, setting the clipboard down on the table. “JARVIS also has access to newspaper articles, police scanners, and things of that sort so if any keywords come up we’ll be able to see those as well.”

       “We’ll be doing something similar here in Cardiff,” Ianto continued. “But instead of looking at reports we’ll be watching the signatures those events leave behind. Perhaps if we’re lucky, anything triggered by Lucifer will leave behind a stronger energy marker.”

       “Like you said, it’s gonna be a bit of a long shot but hopefully this will point us in the right direction,” Jack said.

       “What about the Doctor?” Dean asked, tapping his thumb on the table. “What’s he doing with all this vortex business?”

       “The Doc’s doing what you might call fieldwork. Patrolling the perimeter you could say. Except in this case, the perimeter is really the whole universe,” Jack said.

       “Oh, well that should be fun.”

       “He’s left the TARDIS’s number with me and I’ve compiled everyone’s contact informationon the tablets you've been provided with if ever the need arises," JARVIS informed them.

       "Speaking of contact," Ianto began, scrunching his eyes as he typed out something on his keyboard and pulled up a few documents. "Earlier we received a message from an indeterminate branch of the British government."

       Everyone turned their heads at John's scoff. "Sorry," he said, "I just have a feeling I know who you're talking about." He looked down at his lap, smirking, and let Ianto continue.

       "Er...there wasn't much to it really. It just said they were aware of our involvement and would be keeping tabs on us and would contact us if they needed us."

       "My understanding was Torchwood was outside the government," Natasha spoke up from the door. "How is it that they're keeping watch on you so easily?"

       "We're outside the government, yes," Jack replied, "but we're not exactly covert. Do you know our doctor used to order our pizza under the name 'Torchwood?'" He and Ianto shared a sad, reminiscent smile.

       "Anyway, a black car came and picked up Gwen about an hour ago. The emails are just signed 'MH.'"

       John laughed again and everyone turned their attention on him. "That'd be Mycroft Holmes."

       "I'm gonna take a wild guess and say he's related to Sherlock?" Dean said.

       "Brother, in fact."

       "And he works for the government?" Jack asked.

       "Allegedly. I'm not even sure Sherlock could tell you what it is he does exactly but apparently it's very important. And I wouldn't be surprised if he approached S.H.I.E.L.D. next."

       Bruce scribbled a few more notes on his clipboard and Dean saw Natasha press her finger to her ear and whisper a few words.

       Jack swung his legs off the table and instead propped his elbows on the table. "So assuming that all goes well, we only have one more order of business to cover and it involves you two again." He pointed at the Winchesters.

       "Okay, and?" Sam gestured for Jack to continue.

       "Tell us more about the wards you've put up around the building. What exactly are they doing?"

       Bruce got his clipboard ready again as the brothers explained their methods.

       "The sigils are from all different religions and faiths for protection against all kinds of creatures. It might be a little excessive but we're covering all our bases here," Sam said.

       "Most of them are Enochian and will theoretically work against Lucifer. As for Moriarty, he's just a guy; hopefully the good old fashioned burglar alarm will work well enough. And for Loki we're not really sure. We've come across a Trickster before but we don't know if the mythology is synonymous; we're still working on it," Dean finished.

       "Hold on, what do you mean theoretically?" Jack asked, leaning forward with a concerned look in his eyes.

       "Hey, I told you, man. We're just as new to this whole Apocalypse business same as you."

       Bruce took off his glasses and twirled them around in his fingers. "Well, you must have some sort of basis of understanding. Do you have any contacts or sources that might help us further the research?"

       "Yeah, if you guys are hiding some sort of supernatural Library of Alexandria, share with the class," Jack said, leaning back in his chair again.

       "Well, we do know this one guy. I'm warning you now though. He's a little...cranky."

* * *

 

       After the conference ended and Ianto had signed off, each person went their separate ways. Natasha left to attend to her other duties, Dean wandered off to the kitchen, and Sam and Bruce walked off together in the middle of a discussion about demonic omens and symptoms of possession.

       John was slow in getting up from his chair and Jack stayed behind to sort through his notes.

       “Something on your mind, soldier?” he asked and John whipped his head up.

       “How did you…?”

       “Takes one to know one, John. I recognize a vet when I see one.” He put on his signature smile. “Plus, a few of us swapped war stories the first night.”

       John laughed and leaned against the back of the chair. “Right. So where…uh…where did you say you served again?”

       Jack snatched his coat and put it on. “It’d probably be easier to list where I didn’t serve.” He laughed. “I’ve fought and died so many times I’ve kinda lost count.”

       “Must be hard. For your friends and loved ones. Having to see you die so many times. I know what that can do to a person.” His eyes misted over and Jack knew he was back at St. Barts.

       “It must have been harder for you. You thought he was gone; my friends know I’ll come back.”

       “And what happens when you don’t?” John looked steadily at Jack and Jack could feel him projecting all the pent up emotion in that stare. It had been six years since Sherlock had taken the dive but Jack knew there were some wounds that never healed. Even after Sherlock returned, everything hadn’t gone back to normal. Jack knew enough about Sherlock from reading John’s blog and what he’d gathered from their interactions at the tower so far to realize that Sherlock wasn’t exactly someone you could pour your heart out to. As close as John and Sherlock were, Jack suspected there were just some things John couldn’t talk to him about. The stress of all that had happened in the last few days was taxing on everyone but most of them had a partner to lean on. It seemed like Sherlock was the kind of person to internalize everything, leaving John without someone to turn to.

       “Do you need a drink?” Jack asked, as he swept his coat out of the way and shoved his hands in his pockets. He stayed a few feet away so John didn’t feel pressured or uncomfortable but kept up his smile.

       John looked down at his feet and for a moment Jack thought he was going to refuse. But then he looked up with a smile of his own and pushed his chair in. “You know what? I think I do.”

       Jack laughed and took a hand out of his pocket to give John a hearty pat on the shoulder. They walked out of the conference room together and Jack could see some of the weight lift off of John’s shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION:  
> UPDATE AS OF NOVEMBER 21, 2014: Hello to anyone still watching this or reading it for the first time. _This story will not be continued._ We had plans for it, but real life got crazy and we all lost the drive and inspiration that got us writing this in the first place. We attempted to finish the next chapter but couldn't even really get started. Thank you for your support and love. I'm sorry it had to end like this.  
>  ~VWORPatron

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Friend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/582120) by [TheGoodShipLuLo (InkwellWarriors)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkwellWarriors/pseuds/TheGoodShipLuLo)




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